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PRINCE  HUGO. 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 
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A.  H,  (SOD  L D R*EY, 

DRAPER,  STATION!  ! NMONGER 

\ be  A:  nr  c . 

ISLE  (\f  v\iC  H\. 

PRINCE  HUGO 


% Ericjbt  <%mirA 


By  MISS  GRANT, 

AUTHOR  OF  “ARTISTE,”  “ MY  HEART’S  IN  THE  HIGHLANDS, ’* 
“THE  SUN-MAID,”  “VICTOR  LESCAR,”  &C. 


“ And  I will  be  an  Evening  Thought , 
A Morning  Dream  to  thee , 

A Silence,  in  thy  Life 


IN  THREE  VOLUMES. 

VOL.  II. 


LONDON : 

CHAPMAN  & HALL  Limited,  193,  PICCADILLY. 
1880. 

[All  Rights  Reserved.'] 


LONDON : 


BRADBURY,  AGNEW,  & CO.,  PRINTERS,  WHITEFRIAR3. 


8Z?) 
v,  2 


CONTENTS  OF  YOL.  II. 


DOLCE  FAR  NIENTE 

1 

• 

CHAPTER  I. 

PAGE 

1 

CHAPTER  II. 

NEW  SCENES  AND  SUNNY  CLIMES 38 


ALPENGLUHN  . 

CHAPTER  III. 

58 

ON  VEVEY  PIER. 

CHAPTER  IY. 
CHAPTER  Y. 

THE  VILLA  DE  LA  JOIE 92 

CHAPTER  YI. 

HIS  PRIMA  DONNA 103 


VI 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

PAQH. 

THE  PRINCE  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 123 

CHAPTER  VIII. 

DOES  HE  NOT  KNOW  ? 151 

CHAPTER  IX. 

♦ 

THE  GENEVA  STEAMBOAT 160 

CHAPTER  X. 

SUNSET  ON  THE  TERRACE 180 

CHAPTER  XI. 

OP  MIRIAM 219 

CHAPTER  XII. 

ZARE 238 

CHAPTER  XIII. 

THE  BOSTON 250 

CHAPTER  XIV. 

THE  TURQUOISE 26& 

CHAPTER  XV. 


A GALE  . 


. 278 


PRINCE  HUGO. 


CHAPTER  I. 

DOLCE  FAR  NIENTE. 

Harcourt,  with  quiet  but  characteristic  fore- 
thought, had  planned  this  day  for  his  own 
especial  self ; with  a view  to  his  friends’  pleasure 
certainly,  but  this  to  a secondary  degree ! 
They  had  all  of  them  seemed  to  him,  in 
the  prospect  when  he  planned  it,  as  merely 
harmonious  accompaniments  to  the  quiet  en- 
joyment which  he  expected  to  be  his  own. 

He  wanted  opportunity  for  pursuing  that 
analysis  of  Miriam’s  new  phase  of  development 
of  character  and  spirit,  in  which  his  curious, 
indolent  but  reflective  nature  found  so  odd  an 

YOL.  II. 


B 


PRINCE  HUGO. 


2 

attraction.  And  these  opportunities  never  came 
to  Mm  satisfactorily  in  town.  Miriam  was  too 
^conscious — or  rather  too  free  from  self-con- 
sciousness— to  afford  them,  or  to  assist  him 
ia  their  pursuit.  She  was  occupied  with  so 
Maty  things  and  ideas ; so  surrounded  with 
(people  and  interests,  and  absorbing,  diversified 
©•secerns,  that  he  had  never  got  more,  in  all 
these  weeks  of  their  renewed  acquaintance,  than 
% partial  tete-a-tete  in  a frequently  disturbed 
“aside  ” over  her  boudoir  tea-table,  with  the 
accompaniment  of  all  the  rest  of  their  habitual 
party,  and  many  others  sometimes  as  well. 

In  such  scenes  and  surroundings  how  could 
he  draw  out  Miriam  to  revival  of  confidence  on 
those  old  long-ago  subjects  which  used  to  in- 
terest and  occupy  them  at  Lynton  Grange : 
ia  that  long  ago  when  she  was  a dreaming 
school-girl,  and  he  still  almost  a boy,  and 
rsne,  too,  who  had  not  yet  acquired  such  a 
would-be  comfortable  cynicism,  and  who  still  in 


DOLCE  FAR  NIENTE. 


3 


his  heart  of  hearts  believed  in  her  and  in  her 
dreams. 

Then  Mrs.  Leominster’s  party,  which  had 
been  so  eventful  for  Roderick,  had  disappointed 
him.  Miriam  had  driven  down  with  her 
mother,  and  had  never  hinted  at  his  going  or 
even  returning  with  her  ; and  in  the  garden  she 
had  managed  to  let  herself  be  surrounded  by  all 
and  sundry  sorts  of  people.  Indeed,  people  at 
London  parties  wrere  apt  to  appear  all  one  and 
the  same  to  her,  and  it  was  one  of  her  mother’s 
bitterest  complaints  against  her,  that  she  never 
did  manage  to  talk,  or  even  to  appear  to  be 
talking,  to  what  Mrs.  Debugines  called  “ the 
right  people.” 

People  were  all  much  the  same  at  Mrs.  Leo- 
minster’s to  Harcourt  also,  so  long  as  she  would 
have  talked  to  him.  But  she  did  not,  although, 
no  doubt,  she  would  have  liked  to  do  so.  It 
never  seemed  to  occur  to  her  to  shake  off  the 
sort  of  people  who  surrounded  and  who  bored 


4 


PIUNCE  HUGO. 


her,  or  to  fall  upon  any  little  astute  device  to- 
attach  Harcourt  to  her  side.  And  he  was  cross 
and  disappointed,  for  he  was  accustomed  to  be 
of  those — when  he  went  to  such  assemblies  as 
Mrs.  Leominster’s  garden-party — to  be  of  those 
whom  young  ladies  love  to  lure  dexterously  to 
tete-a-tete,  and  one,  indeed,  on  whom  much 
gentle  feminine  manoeuvring  had  been  spent 
vainly  from  time  to  time. 

So  Miriam’s  ways  were  a novelty  to  him,  and 
when  she  left  him  to  saunter  through  the 
grounds  at  Mrs.  Leominster’s  without  seeming 
to  notice  him  at  all,  he  was  piqued  and  dis- 
consolate and  cross. 

But  now,  was  his  hour  surely,  and  the  sort  of 
time  and  scene  and  surrounding  for  which  he 
had  wished. 

As  the  afternoon  crept  on,  and  the  luncheon 
was  cleared  away,  and  they  sipped  their  cups  of 
black  coffee,  and  the  three  men  lit  their  cigars  ; 
as  they  skimmed  along,  and  the  river  murmured 


DOLCE  FAB  NIENTE. 


5 


'past  them  between  its  softly  wooded  banks,  the 
scene  seemed  suggestive  of  reflection,  and 
memory  seemed  to  wander  irresistibly  back- 
wards. It  was  inevitable  for  two  people  placed 
.as  were  Harcourt  and  Miriam ; and  as  their 
voices  mingled  in  subdued  murmurs,  they  could 
not  suppress  the  realization  that  they  had 
between  them  a past ! 

“ I so  often  think  of  the  old  days,”  said 
Harcourt. 

“Do  you?  I thought  you  had  forgotten,” 
said  Miriam — “ forgotten,  as  you  have  deserted, 
everything  that  belongs  to  that  past.” 

“ I tried  to  forget,  after  my  mother  died,  for 
I intended  myself  for  a disciple  of  Epicurus,  and 
I set  to  work  to  cultivate  annihilation  of  all 
memory  and  hope.” 

“And  you  succeeded?”  she  asked. 

“ Indifferently.” 

It  was  so  they  began — and  then  once  more 
there  was  a pause.  Harcourt  had  taken  the 


6 


PRINCE  HUGO. 


place  near  her  again  after  luncheon,  satisfied 
that  Lady  Dyncourt  was  being  well  amused 
by  John  Frere’s  unceasingly  and  unobtrusively 
pleasant  flow,  and  that  Roderick  and  Zare 
wanted  no  auxiliary  in  their  mutual  entertain- 
ment. And  now  Harcourt  leant  indolently 
back  upon  the  low  seat  of  the  barge,  holding  his 
cigar  between  his  fingers  and  putting  it  lan- 
guidly from  time  to  time  between  his  lips ; and 
he  turned  his  face  often  upwards  towards 
Miriam,  and  watched  the  changeful  expression 
of  her  earnest,  thoughtful  eyes. 

She  looked  along  the  line  of  the  green  bank 
and  over  the  sweep  of  the  broad  rippling  river 
while  he  talked  to  her,  and  seemed  to  resign 
herself,  with  a completeness  unusual  in  her,  to 
the  perfect  enjoyment  and  to  the  soft  and  sooth- 
ing influence  of  the  hour  and  scene. 

Her  countenance  pleased  him  by  its  curious 
quietness,  by  its  evidence  of  a self-contained 
reserve  of  power,  by  its  force  of  self-control,  by 


DOLCE  FAR  NIENTE. 


its  composure,  and  above  all  by  that  air  of  lofty 
indifference  to  common  things  which  so  curiously 
characterized  her  at  all  times.  It  expressed! 
dominion  within  her  own  heart,  over  feeling?, 
and  susceptibilities  of  the  common  type,  and  it 
invested  her  with  a stillness  and  an  aspect  of 
peace,  that  was  wonderfully  in  contrast  to  all  the 
turbulent  and  passionate,  or  frivolous  and  im- 
pressionable examples  of  womanhood,  which  it 
had  been  his  lot  of  late  years  to  encounter  and 
know  well,  either  at  home  or  abroad. 

“At  home  or  abroad,  indeed” — as  he  had 
thought  suddenly  to  himself — “at  home  or 
abroad,”  (Lady  Dyncourt  always  excepted),  he 
had  not  as  yet,  since  his  very  early  days,  been 
fortunate  in  his  women  friends. 

And  yet  women  interested  him,  much  as  he 
pretended  on  this  subject  a cynical  and  unbe- 
lieving view.  They  interested  him  in  all  their 
many  varieties  ; and  this  woman  of  his  boyhoods 
so  unassailable,  so  cool,  so  indifferently,  if  always. 


8 


PRINCE  HUGO. 


genially,  kind  to  him,  interested  him  for  the 
time  being,  indeed,  most  intensely  of  all.  So 
he  watched  her,  and  tried  to  read  the  life’s 
riddle  of  the  earnest  countenance,  now  in  this 
moment  of  repose. 

Indeed,  if  Miriam  had  been  what  her  mother 
wished  to  see  her,  an  acute  and  subtle  schemei’, 
actuated  by  worldly  motives  in  her  intercourse 
with  Harcourt,  she  could  not  possibly  have  de- 
vised, or  dictated  to  herself,  a more  successful 
manner  of  dealing  with  him,  than  in  this  quiet 
©omposed  way  of  hers,  which  he  imputed  to 
cool  indifference,  and  which  piqued  him  to  the 
effort,  of  reviving  an  interest  in  himself  and  his 
peculiar  views  and  opinions  within  her  heart. 
There  was  little  need,  as  it  happened,  to  revive 
by  effort  such  impressions  in  Miriam’s  case  ; for 
they  were  (although  he  did  not  suspect  it,)  all 
again  already  there  ! 

It  was  not  indifference  towards  him,  that  gave 
her  thoughtful  countenance  its  absent  and  pre- 


DOLCE  FAR  NIENTE. 


9 


occupied  look.  The  expression  had  grown  there 
and  become  habitual  to  her  from  the  circum- 
stance of  her  long  solitude  of  spirit,  and  at  the 
same  time  from  the  constant  ceaseless  and  deeply 
absorbed  activity  of  her  inner  life.  She  was  far 
from  indifferent  to  Harcourt,  but  even  his 
presence  could  not  arrest  the  flow  of  her 
searching  thoughts.  She  was  far  from  indifferent 
to  the  pleasant  feeling  that  he  was  once  more 
as  of  old  lingering  by  her,  and  inviting  an  ex- 
change of  converse  now.  But  still,  her  thoughts 
floated  away  from  him  as  the  boat  skimmed  over 
the  glancing  river,  and  they  wandered  often 
into  mystical  dreamlands  of  their  own. 

“ Oh,  what  an  idle,  idle  delicious  way  of 
spending  the  afternoon,”  she  began  suddenly 
again  at  last. 

“ Just  what  you  would  have  expected  of  me, 
is  it  not  ? ” Harcourt  replied. 

“ Ah ! I forgot  for  a moment  that  it  was  of 
your  devising.  Well,  perhaps  it  is  the  sort  of 


10 


PRINCE  HUGO. 


acme  of  comfort  and  complete  idleness  that  I 
•should  have  expected  of  you.  So  this  is  the 
way  you  have  passed  your  life  since  you  became 
Epicurean,  is  it  ? In  being  pulled  along  a sunny 
river  without  exertion  of  any  kind,  in  a cushioned 
and  shaded  boat.  Oh ! Mr.  Lynton,  I do 
believe  it  is  the  truest  picture  of  yourself  you 
could  have  invented  for  us.  It  is  perfectly  de- 
lightful, however,  all  the  same.” 

“ The  dolce  far  niente  does  imply  a passive 
state  of  enjoyment,”  said  Harcourt.  “ It  is 
perhaps  after  all  about  the  best  and  highest  at 
which  we  can  arrive  in  this  present  estate.” 

“ Not  the  highest.  Oh  no ! ” replied  Miriam 
quickly. 

“ Then  why  fly  high  ? Let  us  be  grateful  if 
we  find  a little  taste  of  the  lost  sweetness  of 
existence  by  remaining  in  the  humbler  valleys, 
leaving  the  higher  flights  to  nobler  souls.” 

“But  why  not  be  among  the  noblest,  and  fly 


DOLCE  FAB  NIENTE. 


U 


“ How  if  we  are  minus  wings  ? ” 

“ It  is  not  always  a case  of  flying,  I suspect, 
in  this  life,”  Miriam  murmured.  “ But  a slow, 
weary  climbing,  gaining  with  stern  difficulty 
step  by  step.” 

“ And  arriving  at — what  ? ” he  said.  But 
Miriam  was  silent : her  cool  cheek  was  suffused 
with  sudden  colour.  He  had  drawn  her  so 
rapidly  into  the  depths  ; he  had  disturbed,  as 
■with  an  electric  and  vivifying  touch,  that  dreamy 
dolce  far  niente  into  which  the  river’s  rippling 
flow  wras  indeed  carrying  her,  and  he  had 
brought  her  back  into  the  deeper  and  more 
shadowed  waters,  of  her  most  real  self. 

“ I do  not  think,”  she  said  presently,  “ that 
we  are  bound,  or  entitled  to  feel  ourselves  able,. 
to  give  form  always  in  cold  speech,  to  our  ideal 
of  the  goal  to  which  we  fain  would  come.  But, 
are  you  in  earnest  ? Shall  I really  try  to  express 
it  to  you?  I am  afraid  of  you,  Mr.  Lynton, 
thinking  of  our  fierce  word-battles  of  old.  How 


E2 


PRINCE  HUGO. 


you  used  to  rout  me  in  argument  with  scathing 
mockery  in  those  days,  and  used  to  drive  me 
■back  to  draw  water  for  my  thirsting  young  soul 
from  the  deep  turbulent  wells  within  myself.” 

Harcourt  was  silent  for  a moment,  and  then 
he  repeated  again  : “ To  what  ? Yes — tell  me 
•all  you  think  about  it  now.” 

He  laid  his  cigar  on  the  edge  of  the  boat 
beside  him  as  he  spoke,  and  raised  his  eyes  to 
fix  them  eagerly  upon  hers.  She  remained 
silent  a moment,  meeting  his  full  keen  gaze ; 
then  before  she  said  anything  in  answer  to  him, 
he  continued  as;ain. 

“Did  I really  silence  your  eager  questionings 
of  my  profounder  knowledge  in  those  old  days 
by  my  interesting  and  most  youthful  cynicism, 
which  I believe  was  a most  unreal  piece  of 
affectation  the  whole  time  ; a conceited  assump- 
tion of  superiority,  which  for  myself  I did  not 
even  then  believe  in  P What  an  odious  bear— 
I must  have  been  ! Did  I actually  laugh  at  you. 


DOLCE  FAB  NIENTE. 


IS 


and  reduce  you  really  to  silence?  Well,  the  loss 
was  mine  ; but  surely  it  was  best  for  you.  What 
had  I to  say  except  that  dolce  far  niente  was 
the  safest  ‘ ultimate  ’ at  which  we  could  in  this 
mortal  coil  arrive  ? It  has  been  my  ‘ ultimate/ 
you  see,  after  all  my  philosophic  musings,  and  I 
warrant  you  have  come  to  abetter  end  than  I” 

“ I had  so  much  time,  you  see,”  said  Miriam. 
“ Men  are  allowed,  it  seems  to  me,  so  much  more 
than  women,  to  try  life  actively  and  experi- 
mentally, and  so  more  absolutely  to  wear  out  its 
illusions  : men  like  you  who  are  free  to  live 
their  lives  in  all  directions,  as  they  please.  We 
women  are  more  shut  in  to  mere  contemplation 
of  life,  and  so  I fancy  our  view  is  sometimes 
more  serene.  We  remain  cooler  as  we  think 
of  life,  because  there  is  not  the  same  cloud 
from  the  immediate  and  present  effects  of  things 
blurring  our  perceptive  powers  as  perhaps  in 
your  case,  so  we  arrive  oftener  at  theories  of 


our  own; 


14 


PRINCE  HUGO. 


“ Such  as  that  there  is  a better  end  than  the 
dolce  far  niente  ? ” he  said. 

“ I do  not  think  we  can  expect  an  end — ex- 
pect, I mean,  to  make  up  one’s  mind  clearly,  and 
with  conclusions  that  will  not  be  changeful,  upon 
anything ; any  more  than  we  can  at  any  time 
anticipate  that  we  shall  find  a fixed  unalterable 
groove  in  which  we  may  go.  But  things  do 
clear  and  brighten,  and  a way,  a winding, 
entangled,  but  still  a certain  wav  is  revealed.” 

“ A way  to  what  ? There  again  we  find 
my  question  all  unanswered  still.” 

“ To  a higher  platform,  a higher,  freer  air  to 
breathe,  a higher  point  from  which  to  see.  That 
is  what  we  want  first,  I think,”  said  Miriam. 
“And  that  is  a flight  for  which  we  are  given 
spirit-wings.  And  oh ! Mr.  Lynton,  it  is  so  in- 
vigorating. There  is  such  a strength  and  fresh- 
ness in  that  upper  morning  air.” 

“ It  is  rather  keen  and  chilling,  however,  for 
a sensitive  nature,  is  it  not  ? ” 


DOLCE  FAR  NIENTE. 


15 


“ Not  keen,  not  cliilling,  only  invigorating  and 
fresh  ; it  is  like  this  air  now,  blowing  cool  from 
the  water  in  comparison  with  the  stifling  artificial 
atmosphere  of  that  party  where  I saw  you  last 
night.  How  laden  that  air  was — how  pure  and 
how  cool  and  free,  in  comparison,  is  this  ! ” 

“ Do  you  think  all  that  sort  of  thing  wrong  ? ” 
said  Harcourt.  “Parties,  I mean,  and  balls 
and  such  festivities,  to  which  one  is  led,  in  chains, 
it  seems  to  me,  if  one  returns  even  for  a passing 
period  to  conventional  existence,  as  I have  done 
just  now.  Do  you  mean,  you  think  it  is 
wrong  ? ” 

“ Oh  no  ! ” answered  Miriam  warmly.  “ No  ; 
that  is  the  old  stereotyped  view.  I do  not  think 
we  see  quite  straight,  about  right  and  wrong, 
when  we  try  to  lay  down  laws,  that  run  counter 
to  everything  that  seems  necessary  to  an  or- 
ganized society.  It  is  not  wrong,  as  I imagine  ; 
only,  it  is  not,  it  has  no  existence  in  the  higher 
sphere.” 


16 


PRINCE  HUGO. 


“ People  never  assemble  themselves  together 
then  in  your  upper  realms  ? ” 

“ Oh,  yes,  they  do,  and  it  is  delightful ; only 
they  leave  all  their  conventional  smallness  behind 
them, — the  scrambling,  and  jealousies,  and  care 
for  the  meaner  and  more  material  things.  It 
is  all  shed  as  they  pass  into  that  atmosphere, 
and  nothing  stays  with  them  but  the  apprecia- 
tion of  better  things.” 

“ Better,  from  your  point  of  view.” 

“ Oh,  better  from  the  only  point  that  can  be. 
The  really  true  standard  of  things  does  not 
change.  Surely  thought,  and  art,  and  beauty, 
and  above  all  unselfishness  and  ardour  of  self- 
devotion,  must  be  good  things,  look  at  them  as 
you  please.” 

“ Art  is  not  always  elevating — not  necessarily, 
I take  it.” 

“ No,  not  in  this  lower  atmosphere,  but  in 
the  higher  realm  it  is.  And  then  there  are 
greater  things  even  than  the  highest  art.  Action, 


DOLCE  FAR  NIENTE. 


i it 
Ik 


self-sacrifice,  heroism,  such  must  be  great  and 
good  ; and  so  much  we  can  even  understand  as 
we  see  with  our  fog-blinded  eyes  down  here.” 

“ We  catch  a glimpse,  but  it  is  very  fatiguing,” 
he  answered,  “ and  it  is  perplexing  too.  Better 
to  let  it  drift.” 

“Oh!  no — no.  Not  drift,  that  is  the  worst  of 
all,”  exclaimed  Miriam  eagerly. 

“But  look  at  the  confusion  everything  has 
got  into : if  one  thinks  about  one’s  life  at  all 
in  these  days,  it  seems  to  me  one  gets  into 
immediate  trouble.” 

“Nevertheless  one  cannot  leave  the  thinking 
undone,”  said  Miriam.  “ One  cannot  cease  to 
strive  and  soar ; and  after  all,  one  is  repaid — 
because  you  know  it  is  so  very  perfect,  if  only 
for  a passing  moment  we  can  reach  that  higher 
air, — when  if  only  for  one  swift  passing  gleam, 
life  catches  for  us  that  brighter  light  of  the  pro- 
mised and  coming  clay.  So  little  seems  really 
to  matter  then,  of  all  those  things  for  which 

VOL.  IT. 


C 


18 


PRINCE  HUGO. 


people  are  fighting  so  hard  down  here,  all  seems 
of  so  little  moment.  And  ah  ! Mr.  Lynton, 
surely  we  feel  this  most  when  we  catch  a glimpse 
of  that  one  most  beautiful  Life  lived  once  among 
us — that  Life  to  which  the  rarefied  higher  atmo- 
sphere seemed  the  only  sustaining  breath.” 

“ Ah ! ” said  Harcourt  in  a low  tone,  “ I 
think  I understand  you.” 

‘•'Yes.  Yes,  I know  you  do.  Well,  it  is  as 
we  contemplate  His  life,  I think,  and  as  we  trace 
its  likeness  reflected  on  what  we  might  make  our 
lives  even  now,  that  it  strikes  us,  that  nothing 
is  really  worth  retaining,  of  all  the  many  prizes 
for  which  we  have  struggled,  and  which  we 
have  vainly  hoped  to  win.  None  of  them  worth 
retaining,  save  these  precious  stones  of  earth, 
these  few  crown-gems  of  humanity  on  which  the 
new  foundations  will  be  laid.  They  were  all 
His — they  are  all  that  are  worth  striving  for  in 
ourselves.” 

“The  foundation  stones  of  Heaven,  the  precious 


DOLCE  FAR  NIENTE. 


19 


gems  of  earth.  It  is  a poetic  thought.  If  we 
could  exactly  determine  what  they  are,”,  said 
Harcourt. 

“ Ah ! It’s  more  than  a thought,  it  is  a 
reality,”  said  Miriam.  “ And  there  is  no  doubt 
what  they  are;  and  up  in  that  purer  atmosphere, 
when  our  spirits  breathe  it,  if  but  for  a moment, 
they  immediately  seem  to  be  the  only  treasures 
we  need  care  to  gain.  The  precious  things  of 
•character,  of  inner  attributes,  prompting  outward 
and  living  deeds.  The  gems,  the  crown  gems 
of  humanity,  without  which  life  deteriorates  and 
becomes  really,  even  for  us  here,  a worthless 
thing — these  are  what  seem,  away  in  the  upper 
air  of  the  spirit,  to  be  our  only  need.” 

“What  do  you  think,”  she  added  presently, 
“is  the  most  precious  inner  thing  in  life  on 
which  you  would  base  your  foundation  for  the 
higher  sphere  ? ’’ 

“I  used  to  think — complacency,”  said  Har- 
court ; “ tranquillity  of  mind  springing  from  a 


20 


PRINCE  HUGO. 


general  passive  contentment  witli  the  state  of 
things.” 


“ Yes,  we  want  that  first,  but  in  a particular 
way,”  continued  Miriam,  warming  with  her 
theme.  “We  want  acquiescence,  assent,  as  if 
it  did  not  really  much  matter  what  happened 
to  oneself.  And  then,  activity  springing  from 
intense  feeling  for  everything  beyond  oneself ; 
sympathy,  enthusiasm  of  concern,  for  what  is 
endured  around  one ; an  understanding  of  other 
lives,  and  an  indifference  to  one’s  own.  I think 
that  is  the  beginning  of  what  we  call  heroism 


in  my  higher  sphere.” 

“ It  is  difficult  to  be  indifferent  when  one- 
happens  to  feel,”  said  Harcourt. 

“ Yes,  it  is  true  there  may  be  suffering,  but 
that  develops  endurance,”  said  Miriam,  “and  that 
too  is  a glorious  thing ; I think  the  courageous 
endurance  that  can  look  straight  at  life,  and  take 
and  face  and  live  it,  is  also  one  of  the  things 
to  aim  at,  and  an  attribute  that  will  prove  a 


7 


DOLCE  FAR  NIENTE. 


21 


foundation  stone ; and  then  also  sympathy,  the 
best  of  all  qualities — coming  as  the  result  of 
all.  Hardness  to  oneself  and  tenderness  to 
others,  that  seems  to  describe  it.  That  was  His 
life,  you  know,  the  one  Star  of  that  night  in 
which  all  humanity  seems  shrouded.  I do  not 
like  to  sermonize  you,  as  you  would  say,  Mr. 
Lynton,  but  you  know  if  you  will  penetrate 
beyond  conventionalities,  you  arrive  at  once  at 
this  point  with  me — for  it  seems  to  me  to  imply 
everything.  1 used  to  dream  of  a higher  life, 
you  know,  at  all  times ; a loftier  sphere  of 
being,  a grander  field  of  action,  and  more 
especially  for  us  women.  That  was  my  old 
idea,  and  I used  to  think  so  much  of  all  this ; 
having  what  I thought  grand  aspirations  about 
it,  and  despising  humble  efforts  and  small 
results,  until  gradually — away  up  in  that  night, 
where  I saw  men  and  women  in  darkness 
struggling  to  find  a new  and  better  way — I 
seemed  to  realize  Him,  who  lived  that  lowly 


22 


PBINCjE  HUGO. 


and  wonderful  Life,  and  since  then,  He  seems' 
to  shine  above  the  world  for  me,  like  a vivid 
and  illuminating  Morning- Star,  and  I see  the 
life  of  the  higher  sphere  simply  in  following 
in  His  steps ; for  He  seems  to  stand,  showing 
forth  in  His  own  self  that  higher  nature  built 
upon  these  new  foundations,  with  His  foot  set 
firm  upon  all  this  lower  life  of  ours.  And  He 
stands  too,  pointing  ever  upwards  beyond  and 
above  us  all ; above  our  common  views  and  false 
measurements  of  people,  of  circumstances,  and  of 
familiar  things;  and  the  higher  air  with  its  purer 
and  loftier  breezes  seems  sweeping  around  us  as 
we  stedfastly  regard  simply — Him.  Forgive  me, 
Mr.  Lynton,  if  you  do  not  like  my  subject,”  she 
added. 

* 

“ I like  any  subject  as  long  as  you  will  talk 
upon  it,”  he  answered;  “and  I like  your  particular 
subject  of  the  moment,  as  you  put  it  now.  Ah ! 
I fear  you  will  say  in  conclusion,  that  this  is  an 
enervating  and  sedative  atmosphere  in  which  I 


DOLCE  FAR  N1ENTE. 


23 


have  been  dreaming  away  my  time ; for  mine  is 
certainly,  looking  from  your  ethereal  point  of 
view,  a useless  and  resultless  life.” 

“ I should  not  like  to  say  that  of  any  one,” 
said  Miriam.  “ Prom  my  ideal  point  of  view 
the  prospect  is  so  wide,  all  lives  have  somehow 

their  place  and  purpose,  and  I am  sure 

Well,  Mr.  Lynton,”  she  added  after  a moment’s 
hesitation,  “ your  life  is  still  in  progress,  you 
do  not  know  to  what  heights  it  may  yet 
aspire.” 

“I  want  wings,”  he  said,  “I  want  wings,  I 
am  heavily  crippled  with  a tendency  to  make 
the  best  of  diurnal  things.” 

“ But  it  need  not  always  be  so.” 

“ I fear,  I feel  no  premonitory  symptoms  that 
I am  destined  for  higher  flights.  Look,  it  is 
all  very  well;  but  is  not  life  pleasant,  simply  in  a 
quiescent  state  of  idleness  to-day  ? ” 

“ Oh,  we  are  all  holidaying  to-day,”  said 
Miriam  lightly,  and  she  smiled  round  upon 


24 


PRINCE  HUGO. 


him  with  an  effort  to  throw  off  the  serious  mood 
into  which  he  had  inveigled  her.  “It  is  certainly 
very  lovely,  and  we  are  indebted  to  you  for  a 
piece  of  delightful  experience  we  shall  not  soon 
forget.” 

“ And  I to  you,”  he  answered,  “ for  a glimpse 
in  through  the  mystic  portals  of  the  spirit 
spheres.  I felt  somehow,  by  intuitive  percep- 
tion when  I saw  you  again,  that  you  had  taken 
wings  and  soared  further  than  ever  beyond  my 
understanding  or  my  vision.” 

“ Oh  no,  I have  done  nothing — I am  not 
speaking  of  any  thing  I have  achieved,  only  of 
my  ideal  of  things.  I have  not  yet  found  the 
groove,  you  know,  in  which  I can  go  on  and 
work  out,  all  I think  and  feel.” 

“ Well,  who  knows  ? ” said  Harcourt.  “ Per- 
haps, if  we  talked  as  we  did  in  the  old  days, 
just  now  and  again,  we  might  help  each  other 
mutually  to  find — what ! Goodness  knows  what ! 
But  something,  which  might  prove  a rudder  over 


DOLCE  FAR  NIENTE. 


25 


the  stormy  sea  of  life,  perhaps  for  both  your 
ship  and  mine.” 

“ I think  talking  to  me,  would  bore  you,” 
said  Miriam. 

“No,  that  certainly  not;  only  I am  disap- 
pointed because  you  are  by  no  means  so  assertive 
and  pugnacious  as  you  were  long  ago,  in  argu- 
ment ; and  I have  not  had  my  nerves  braced 
from  combat  to  the  degree  I anticipated.  Look, 
here  we  are,  approaching  Dorney  Court,  I 
declare.” 

And  so  they  actually  were — the  soft  evening 
shadows  were  already  threatening  to  fall.  Softly 
the  barge  had  glided  on,  passing  lock  after  lock, 
by  sloping  fields,  and  clustering  woods,  past 
Marlow,  Cookham,  Cliefden,  and  Formoso,  and 
now  it  was  nearly  six  o’clock  of  the  lovely  July 
evening,  and  they  were  approaching  Taplow, 
where  Harcourt  had  arranged  that  they  were  to 
land.  The  tete-a-tetes  broke  up,  and  they 
gathered  in  the  centre  of  the  barge  now ; and 


PIUNCE  HUGO. 


26 

they  chattered  and  laughed, — in  general  con- 
versation together — until  the  appearance  one  by 
one  of  little  flat-bottomed  boats,  with  minnow 
fishers  seated  on  chairs  in  the  middle  of  each, 
with  steady  line  resting  on  the  water  and  long, 
white  “ puggerees  ” covering  their  hats,  attracted 
their  attention,  excited  exclamations  of  immense 
amusement  from  Zare,  and  intimated  that  they 
were  nearing  the  goal  of  their  pleasant  voyage ; 
the  point  at  which  they  were  to  part  with  their 
barge,  and  where,  at  the  renowned  little  house  of 
entertainment,  they  were  to  have  an  evening's, 
repast  before  returning  by  train  to  town.  There, 
as  before,  everything  was  ready  and  in  waiting 
for  them,  and  in  the  little  quaint  inn  parlour, 
with  its  low  French  window  opening  out  upon 
the  green  lawn  of  the  garden  that  sloped  towards 
the  flowing  river,  they  had  a wonderful  repast;  a 
repast  indeed,  on  which  Luloni  and  Mr.  Minton’s 
genius  and  device,  in  supplying  food  for  the 
demands  of  varied  national  and  habitual  tastes. 


DOLCE  FAB  NIENTE. 


27 


seemed  once  more  to  have  been  most  cleverly 
exercised. 

This  despatched,  they  wandered  down  to  the 
river.  It  wanted  still  half  an  hour  to  their 
return  train,  and  this  half-hour  seemed  sug- 
gestive. 

It  was  their  last,  and  it  was  quite  evening 
now.  A wonderful  stillness  seemed  to  fill  the 
air,  and  the  shadows  on  the  water  were  stretch- 
ing far,  and  sinking  dark  and  deep.  The 
green  bank  sloped  invitingly  towards  the  river 
brink — they  all  sat  down  upon  it. 

The  rushing  stream  whispered  murmuringly 
through  the  long  rushes  and  sedge  grass,  and 
curled  round  the  keels  of  the  little  light  boats, 
lashed  to  the  pier’s  side,  tossing  them  airily  to 
and  fro  with  the  force  of  the  current,  and 
making  constant  soft  rushing  sounds. 

They  had  the  place  almost  to  themselves, 
for  the  season  was  so  nearly  over,  that  few 
habitues  of  Taplow  were  left  in  town,  and  the 


PRINCE  HUGO. 


28 

pretty  garden,  with  its  cluster  of  late  roses  and 
gay-coloured  creepers  growing  richly  over  the 
house-walls,  seemed  a really  rustic  and  country 
retreat  to-night,  with  few  cockney  suggestions  in 
its  surroundings  at  all. 

“ Now,”  said  Lady  Dyncourt,  “ just  half-an- 
hour  more  of  our  sylvan  and  arcadian  existence, 
and  then  back  to  civilization  and  to  town.  Miss 
Lagonidet,  will  you  not  consecrate  this  last  half- 
hour,  by  bestowing  one  more  enjoyment  upon 
all  of  us  ? Will  you  not  add  to  our  charming 
recollection  of  this  lovely  July  day,  the  memory 
of  one  of  your  lovely  songs — I think  the  moment 
suggests  music.” 

“Oh,  do,”  “Please,”  “It  would  be  perfect,” 
came  from  one  and  all ; and  Zare  coloured  in 
her  shy  girlish  way. 

She  always  coloured  and  said  little,  when 
they  all  turned  upon  her,  but  she  assented  at 
once. 

In  one  moment,  her  rich  full  notes  rose  in  a 


DOLCE  FAB  NIENTE. 


29 


sweet  Italian  barcarole — a pretty,  quaint  thing, 
that  sounded  all  the  more  fresh  and  natural,  as 
she  sang  it,  sitting  there  on  the  grass  without 
any  accompaniment,  and  sending  forth  her  eager 
young  voice,  in  a glad  carol,  across  the  rippling* 
water,  into  the  still  night  air.  The  effect  was 
charming ; they  all  sat  enthralled  with  intense 
enjoyment,  as  the  shadows  fell  deeper  and 
deeper  upon  them,  and  her  voice  went  melo- 
diously on.  “Brava!  brava!”  exclaimed  Roderick, 
clapping  his  hands  with  pleasure  as  she  ended, 
and  they  all  uttered,  in  murmured  accents,  their 
admiration  and  their  thanks. 

“ Well,  that  is  really  something  charming, 
with  which  to  crown  the  pleasantest  day  I have 
had  this  season,”  said  Lady  Dyncourt.  “ Mr. 
Lynton,  thanks  a thousand  times  to  you.” 

“ It  was  so  good  of  you  to  come,”  Harcourt 
answered. 

“ Very  good  to  ourselves,  I think.  Mr. 
Frere  and  I have  said  a dozen  times  to  each 


30 


PRINCE  HUGO. 


other,  how  pleasant  we  found  it;  and  I must 
tell  you  the  device  we  fell  upon  for  imagining 
its  pleasure  prolonged.” 

“ What  ?— it  is,  in  fact,  horribly  nearly  over 
now,”  said  Roderick,  turning  round,  where  he 
lay  stretched  on  the  sloping  grass  by  Zare,  to 
look  up  into  Lady  Dyncourt’s  bright  face. 

“ Ah  ! I fear  our  projects  may  not  include 
you,”  sighed  Lady  Dyncourt ; and  she  looked 
round,  in  answer  to  him,  with  a kind  regretful 
expression  in  her  eyes.  “ Not  you — I fear 
nothing  will  rescue  you,  Mr.  Ray.  from  the  stern 
Admiralty  commands.” 

“ No,  hang  it  all ! ” exclaimed  Roderick  ; “ I 
declare  I never  wished  I was  not  a sailor  till 
now.  But  I wish  it  now — I wish  it  all  day 
long,”  he  continued  wistfully,  looking,  with  eager 
sorrowful  eyes,  round  towards  Zare. 

“ I like  a sailor,”  she  said  softly  to  him. 

“ So  you  say,  God  bless  you,  and  that  is  the 
only  thing  that  consoles  me.  And  I am  not 


DOLCE  FAR  NIENTE. 


31 


going  far,  after  all ; it  will  be  only  a six-months’ 
cruise,  and  you  will  not  have  forgotten  me  by 
then,  Zare,  my  darling — will  you,  my  own 
love  ? ” he  whispered,  lowering  his  voice,  so  that 
the  words  only  stole  to  her  ear. 

She  put  up  her  finger,  as  if  to  touch  his  sun-, 
burnt  cheek,  as  he  raised  it  so  close  to  hers, 
from  where  he  lay  by  her  side  on  the  grass ; but 
she  let  her  hand  fall  again,  only  smiling  and 
shaking  her  head  in  answer  to  his  pleading 
words. 

“ I will  never  say  again  that  one  cannot  have 
a pleasant  holiday  in  London,”  said  John  Frere, 
presently,  in  his  quiet  low  tones. 

“ No,  or  by  agreeably  getting  out  of  London,” 
said  Lady  Dyncourt.  “ And,  by  the  way,  that 
was — as  I was  just  beginning  to  tell  you — the 
subject  of  Mr.  Frere’s  and  my  constant  dis- 
cussion this  afternoon — ‘ Getting  out  of  London.’ 
We  have  all  got  to  do  so  immediately — and 
where  do  we  all  mean  to  go  % ” 


32 


PRINCE  HUGO. 


They  turned  towards  her,  with  awakened 
interest,  as  she  spoke. 

Where  were  they  all  going  ? To  where 
would  they  scatter — that  happy  party,  sitting 
there  together,  in  the  twilight  of  that  July  day,, 
in  the  sloping  gardens  of  the  little  Taplow  inn  ? 
When  might  they  meet  again,  in  such  undis- 
turbed tranquillity ; with  the  picture  of  life  so 
vague  in  outline,  and  yet  so  soft  and  alluring, 
as  at  that  moment  it  lay  for  several  of  them 
before  their  hopeful  young  visions  ? When  and 
where  might  they  meet  ? Where  and  when — 
if,  indeed,  ever — with  hearts  so  light  and 
so  unembittered,  with  aspirations  so  pure  and 
so  high ; with  hopes  so  vague,  so  shadowy, 
but  so  intensely  sweet,  with  life  lying  all 
veiled  before  them  — life  an  enigma  still 
unread ! 

They  were  nearly  all  still,  more  or  less,  in 
their  respective  dreamlands.  Would  they  ever — 
all  united  and  together — spend  such  a mystically 


DOLCE  FAR  NIENTE. 


33 


tender  evening  within  these  enchanted  portals 
again  ? 

“ What  is  to  become  of  us  all,”  repeated  Lady 
Dyncourt,  “ when  the  season  is  quite  over,  and 
everybody  has  left  town  ? We  must  go,  too, 
you  know.” 

“ For  one,”  said  Harcourt,  “ will  you  tell  us 
where  you  are  going  to,  Lady  Dyncourt  ? ” 

“ I ? — I am  going,  of  course,  to  Scotland  for 
August,  as  we  do,  with  all  proper  regularity, 
every  year.  I am  going  to  bore  myself,  more  or 
less,  on  the  breezy  heights  above  Locli  Innary, 
while  my  liege  lord  shoots  grouse.  We  have 
got  such  a little  bit  of  a lodge  there,  alas  ! or  I 
would  invite  every  one  of  you  to  come  up  to 
me ; only  that,  besides  my  poverty  of  house 
room,  I do  not  for  a moment  think  that  any  one 
of  you  would  come.” 

“ I should  like  nothing  better,  for  one,”  said 
Miriam ; “ but  my  fate  is  sealed.  We  go  to 
Spaalbad,  for  Mr.  Debugines’  gout,  in  August, 


VOL.  II. 


D 


34 


PRINCE  HUGO. 


and  then  to  an  hotel  in  Switzerland,  for  the  rest 
of  the  autumn.  I believe  Mr.  Debugines  likes 
foreign  better  than  Scotch  air,  and  my  mother 
thinks  nothing  so  dull,  nowadays,  as  a highland 
house  ; so  my  northern  journeys  are  ‘no  more’  in 
this  present  phase  of  life.” 

“ I believe  I will  go  to  Switzerland,  also,  some 
time  or  other,  in  the  autumn,”  said  Harcourt. 
“ I mean  to  go  to  Italy  this  winter,  by  that 
newly-opened  pass.  I will  drop  round  by 
Geneva,  in  search  of  you  in  September.” 

“It  will  be  very  pleasant  if  you  do,”  said 
Miriam. 

And  at  the  same  moment,  Zare  raised  her  soft 
voice,  and  said  : — 

“ It  is  also  quite  settled,  that  I am  to  go  to 
Switzerland  till  the  autumn.  My  friend,  Mrs. 
Redmond,  is  going  to  be  all  August  and  Sep- 
tember at  Vevey,  and  I think,”  she  added  hesi- 
tatingly, “ that  I shall  stay  there  with  her.” 

“ You  shall  stop  there  with  her  till  we  arrive,” 


DOLCE  FAR  NIENTE. 


35 


said  Miriam,  smiling  affectionately  at  her.  “And 
then  yon  shall  remove  yourself  to  my  care,  if  you 
please,  Zare.” 

“ It  will  be  some  comfort  for  me  to  think  of 
you  two  together,”  said  Roderick,  sadly.  “ Look 
here.  Do  join  in  with  Mirrell,  will  you,  Zare, 
and  then  you  can  write  me  everything- — both 
of  you. — that  you  do.  Oh,  how  horrid  that 
I shall  not  be  with  you  all  the  time.” 

“Well,”  said  Lady  Dyncourt,  “ it  is  horrible 
for  all  of  us,  Mr.  Ray — for  we  shall  scarcely 
meet  all  together  again  (not  for  a good  long  day 
together,  at  least)  till  about  six  months  hence, 
when  I hope  you  will  have  returned,  and  I shall 
be  back  in  London.  Here,  have  Mr.  Frere  and 
I been  imagining,  I tell  you,  how  pleasant  it 
would  be  if  we  could  all  go  off  with  him  as  our 
cicerone — he  knows  every  corner  of  the  Alps 
— and  if  we  could  wander  about  for  the  whole 
lovely  autumn — and  I have  to  go  and  bore 
myself  in  a highland  shooting-box  for  August 


36 


PRINCE  HUGO. 


and  September,  and  then  go  down  into  Corn- 
wall for  two  months  of  pheasants,  and  then  run 
about  to  the  haunts  of  the  fox-hunter  for  the 
rest  of  the  winter — much  against  my  choice  ; 
and  here  is  Miriam  going  to  wear  her  heart  out 
with  despair  over  the  frivolous  dissipations  of 
Spaalbad ; and  poor  Mr.  Erere,  worst  of  all  of  us, 
to  be  shut  up  in  his  studio,  all  August,  in  town. 
Why,  Mr.  Ray,  you  have,  by  no  means,  the 
worst  of  it  among  us  all.” 

“ Well,  I think  it  is  the  worst — under  the 
circumstances,”  grumbled  Roderick.  “ But, 
hulloa,  John,  what  is  going  to  keep  you  in 
town  ? ” 

“ The  head  of  the  great  pundit,”  said  John. 

“ You  know  I am  doing  W ’s  portrait  for 

the  new  publication  of  * Illustrated  Biographies,’ 
and  it  will  not  be  finished  for,  at  least,  a month 
to  come.  Then  I shall  be  off,  too.  I will  come 
in  search  of  you  and  Zare  to  Geneva,  Miriam.” 

<£  Yes,  do ; that  will  be  charming,”  said 


DOLCE  FAR  NIENTE. 


37 


Miriam.  “ It  will  be  something  to  look  for- 
ward to,  John — for,  I believe  in  you.  I am  scep- 
tical as  to  the  prospects  of  seeing  Mr.  Lynton 
appear.” 

“Very  wrong  of  you  to  be  sceptical,”  he 
asserted — “ for  I fully  intend  to  come.” 

“ Dear,  dear  ! how  I envy  all  you  light- 
weighted  people,”  said  Lady  Dyncourt.  “ It 
seems  to  me,  all  of  you  go  exactly  where  you 
like,  and  I have  my  conventional  groove  cut  out 
for  me ; and  I see  no  prospect  of  release  from 
grouse  moors,  or  fox-hunting,  while  these  two 

sports  endure Hah  ! is  that  the  bell  ? We 

shall  miss  the  train.  No,  I forgot  your  ‘ special  ’ 
again,  Mr.  Lynton  ; but  is  not  that  the  hour 
chiming,  at  which  we  are  timed  to  start  ? ” 


CHAPTER  II. 


NEW  SCENES  AND  SUNNY  CLIMES. 

John  Prere  was  released,  somewhat  sooner 
than  he  expected  from  his  uncongenial  but 
remunerative  task,  of  depicting  for  a grateful 
posterity,  the  emphatic  countenance  of  the  first 
of  living  Analysts,  and  towards  the  end  of  August 
he  was  enabled  to  escape  from  the  stuffy  little 
London  studio,  which  he  had  rented  for  the 
performance  of  this  great  work,  and  to  betake 
himself  to  the  pursuit  of  his  scattered  friends, 
and  to  the  enjoyment  of  a complete  holiday. 
Twenty-four  hours  after  the  end  of  his  appointed 
task,  and  he  was  far  from  the  grimy  scene  of  his 
labours.  Eleven  hours  carried  him,  all  impa- 
tience, to  Paris,  which  appeared  nearly  as  burnt- 
up  and  dust-covered  as  London  when  he  drove 


NEW  SCENES  AND  SUNNY  CLIMES.  39 


through  it  on  a hot  morning  from  one  station  to 
another.  And  fourteen  hours  more,  spent  in  a 
long  grilling  railway  transit,  found  him  at  its 
end,  descending  with  jaded  energies,  but  spirits 
rising  rapidly  with  the  scale  of  the  lightening 
atmosphere  at  the  station  at  Geneva. 

It  was  late  on  a beautiful  August  night,  the 
moon  in  radiant  loveliness  was  glancing  silvery 
and  luminous  on  the  distant  outline  of  the 
mountains  ; on  the  white  buildings,  along  the 
gardens  and  the  Quais,  on  the  limpid  surface 
of  the  waters — where  the  blue  Rhone  rippling 
round  the  Isle  de  Rousseau,  and  flowing  under 
the  Pont  de  Mont  Blanc, — poured  its  restless 
and  far  wandering  currents  from  out  the  Lake 
Leman. 

He  betook  himself  to  the  * Couronne,’  an  old 
favourite  resort.  Not  one  of  the  most  renowned 
hostelries,  but  a quaint,  rather  old-fashioned 
place,  from  the  window  of  which,  as  he  sat  and 
wrote,  or  painted,  or  lounged  at  ease  smoking  a 


40 


PRINCE  HUGO. 


peaceful  cigar,  be  bad  many  a time  before  now 
gazed  and  dreamt — delighting  himself  as  he 
imbibed  fresh  and  constant  inspirations,  from  the 
cool  delicious  breezes,  blowing  straight  towards 
him  across  limpid  waters,  and  from  glacial 
heights.  Where  the  view  had  often  gladdened 
and  given  new  life  to  his  eager,  sensitive  being,  as 
he  had  gazed  and  enjoyed,  and  the  blue  flash  of 
the  lake  glistening  beyond  the  Monument  de  la 
Reunion  had  smiled  back  to  him  again,  while 
his  eyes  wandered  away,  over  the  distant  peaks 
and  shoulders  of  the  mountains,  to  where  Mont 
Blanc’s  imperial  crest,  rose  with  its  attendant 
aiguilles , against  the  tinted  curtains  of  the  sky. 

Brom  the  upper  chamber  of  the  Hotel  de  la 
Couronne,  to  which  as  a humble  itinerant  artist 
he  had  been  often  hoisted,  he  had  enjoyed  this 
celestial  prospect  on  many  an  old  student  holi- 
day, and  he  was  right  glad  to  see  it  again  once 
more. 

He  was  horribly  tired  ; over  work,  and  over 


NEW  SCENES  AND  SUNNY  CLIMES.  41 


rapid  travel,  and  hot  London  days,  and  an 
uncongenial  task,  had  quite  worn  him  out,  and 
on  that  first  night  of  his  arrival  he  had  only 
strength  enough  in  him  to  realise,  with  a rush  of 
intense  gladness,  that  he  was  there,  in  the  land 
of  lake,  and  waterfall,  and  mountains  once  more, 
and  that  he  lay  down  to  rest — after  a single 
glance  towards  the  distant  and  mystic  outline  of 
the  towering  monarch — in  a clean  tidy  attic,  and 
in  a real  Swiss  bed. 

But  morning  changed  all  this  as  if  by  magic. 
A sound  night’s  sleep,  and  the  languor  of  months 
of  city  labour  seemed  gone  ! As  the  fresh  breath 
of  the  dawn  came  wafted  towards  him  through 
his  open  lattice,  and  as  morning,  in  gorgeous 
hues  of  crimson,  and  violet,  and  gold,  rose 
majestically  over  mountains  and  lake,  and 
gleamed  on  the  white  walls,  and  the  green 
balconies,  and  the  many  bridges  of  Geneva, 
John  sprang  eagerly  from  his  rest,  and  felt  that 
not  one  moment  more  of  this  delicious  day  must 


42 


PRINCE  HUGO. 


be  wasted  in  somniferous  repose.  He  dressed 
as  rapidly  as  that  view  from  the  little  lattice 
would  allow  him.  He  paused  only  some  dozen 
times  to  lean  over  the  projecting  leads,  and  put 
his  head  out  into  the  sweetness  of  this  mountain 
air ; to  revel  in  the  tints,  and  shadows,  and 
tender  lights  of  the  sunrise,  and  to  watch  the 
delicate  morning  clouds  creep  along  the  summits 
of  the  hills.  He  longed  to  open  his  paint-box 
already  ; and  a descriptive  article  on  “ The  First 
Sunrise  in  Geneva  after  an  August  in  Town,” 
seemed  to  rise  spontaneously  to  his  ready  brain, 
and  to  press  for  immediate  utterance  at  the  pen 
point.  But  he  had  other  thoughts  as  well. 

“ Where  are  they  all,  I wonder  ? ” was  about 
his  first  clearly  realized  idea,  coming  suddenly 
to  him  as  he  peered  from  his  little  window,  and 
thus  evidently  suggested  by  the  far  reaching 
view.  “Shall  I find  them  all  up  the  lake  there? 
I wonder  at  what  particular  point  they  have 
come  to  anchor,  and  whether  we  shall  manage 


NEW  SCENES  AND  SUNNY  CLIMES. 


43 


a tryst ! Or  is  Miriam  still  at  Spaalbad,  and  has 
Lynton  lost  himself  somewhere,  perhaps  on  the 
Dolomite  heights?  At  least,  I am  sure  of  Zare. 
Pretty  one,  how  have  you  been  using  your  idle 
wings  for  wayward  flights  since  we  parted  in 
July?” 

“ Poor  Roderick  ! Ah  ! he  is  baking  under  a 
hotter  sun  than  is  rising  over  Mont  Blanc  there, 
and  in  a sunshine  flashing  upon  a more  shadeless 
sea  than  Lake  Leman.  Poor  Roderick!  I wonder 
if  they  have  lately  heard  of  him  ? Dear  me ! 
„we  have  been  pretty  well  scattered  all  of  us, 
of  Lynton’s  barge-party  of  the  24th  ! And  Lady 
Dyncourt,  our  charming  chaperone  ? I am  afraid 
I shall  find  on  these  sunlit  shores  no  trace  of 
her  ! I wonder  what  bag  her  lord  made  upon  the 
twelfth,  and  how  she  liked  it.  She  is  a delicious 
bohemienne,  is  Lady  Dyncourt — sadly  wasted 
upon  civilization.  But  no  Philistine,  not  a bit 
of  her  ! Philistiniana  has  no  part  in  her ! She 
is  ‘ grande  dame  ’ by  destiny ; she  might  have 


44 


FB1NCE  HUGO. 


been  Bohemian  by  choice,  but  Philistine  by  no 
possibility.  Never  ! Well,  I wonder  where  I 
shall  find  them  all,  such  of  the  old  set  as  I can 
hope  to  discover  in  their  foreign  haunts,  and  I 
wonder  whether  any  of  them  have  written  to  me. 
Ah  ! happy  thought.  Is  the  post-office  open  ? 
Let  me  see.  It  will  be  in  less  than  half  an  hour. 
Capital ! that  is  it,  we  are  arriving  there.  I shall 
finish  dressing,  saunter  down,  and  claim  my  paste-  < 
restante.  I begged  them  to  write  direct  to  me 
here.  And  then,  I will  just  turn  into  the  old 
place  on  the  Quai  de  Rive,  and  read  up  all  that 
fate  may  reveal  to  me  about  everybody,  while  I 
have  a cup  of  coffee  and  smoke  my  morning 
cigarette.” 

An  hour  later  and  John  had  worked  out  his 
programme.  His  morning  lounge  was  accom- 
plished along  the  Grand  Quai  and  the  Jardin 
Anglais.  He  had  been  also  to  the  Bureau  de  la 
Poste.  He  had  been  delighted  by  the  receipt  there 
of  a budget  of  friendly  looking  letters,  and  now, 


NEW  SCENES  AND  SUNNY  CLIMES.  45 


with  these,  and  a replenished  cigar  case,  and  a 
big,  blue-lined  umbrella,  he  had  finally  come  to 
anchor  beneath  a painted  verandah  beside  a 
myrtle  tree  in  a huge  green  pot  at  a round  table, 
where,  at  the  Cafe  Noisette,  a pleasant  little 
breakfast  cil fresco  was  speedily  supplied  for  him 
by  an  assiduous  and  very  antiquated  (/argon,  in 
a snowy  white  apron  and  coat. 

How  delicious  it  was,  after  all  the  dust,  and 
heat,  and  weariness  of  the  last  few  weeks,  to  sit 
t idly  and  reposefully  there  ! To  hear  the  cheerful 
and  busy  clatter  of  the  restaurant  at  his  back. 
To  smell  the  rich,  pungent  fragrance  of  the  coffee 
which  was  being  prepared  in  quantities,— to 
be  carried  out  on  little  round  trays,  with  piles  of 
crisp,  fresh  rolls,  and  delicious  Narbonne  honey, 
and  placed,  on  the  countless  small  tables,  where, 
beneath  the  shade  of  the  verandah,  within  view 
of  the  Rhone’s  pellucid  streams,  and  the  lake’s 
sweet  glistening  smile,  and  the  mountain’s 
distant  majesty,  the  frugal  Genevese  bourgeois, 


46 


PRINCE  HUGO. 


(clad  in  light,  cool  blouse,  and  wearing  broad 
straw  hats,  and  unfolding  gigantic  bandanas,) 
collected,  all  replete  with  happy  and  philosophic 
contentment,  for  their  morning  repast.  John 
sipped  his  coffee,  ate  his  crisp  brown  roll,  and 
felt  happy  and  contented  also,  as  the  sun  shone 
out  gaily  over  the  bright  town  and  on  the 
shimmering  waters,  and  as  his  heart,  (with  hopes 
of  pleasure  and  repose,  stretching  joyfully  before 
him,)  seemed  to  bathe  in  the  gladdening  sunshine 
with  all  the  rest.  He  spread  out  his  budget  of 
letters  on  the  table  before  him  beyond  his  coffee 
cup  and  pile  of  rolls,  and  he  conned  the  directions 
with  amusement,  and  with  anticipations  that 
were  most  agreeable. 

That  was  certainly  Miriam’s  fine  and  rather 
masculine  caligraphy.  It  bore  the  post-mark 
“ Spaalbacl,”  so  she  was  still  in  durance  vile 
over  there.  And  that  was  Lady  Dyncourt. 
“ How  good-natured  of  her,”  he  thought,  “ to 
write  to  him  so  soon  in  answer  to  his  grumbling 


NEW  SCENES  AND  SUNNY  CLIMES. 


47 


rigmarole  from  London  ! ” And  that  third  was 
his  Paris  dealer,  from  whom  he  anticipated  per- 
haps a tidy  order  for  some  Swiss  views. 

And  that  was  surely  Zare’s  little,  foreign, 
pointed  handwriting.  Ah ! so  much  the  better. 
Then  he  could  gather  some  idea  where  to  direct 
his  steps  in  search  of  her  at  least,  and  now  he 
would  be  able  after  breakfast  to  make  his  plans. 

Pie  pushed  his  empty  coffee-cup  aside  pre- 
sently, and  lit  his  little  paper  cigarette,  and  then 
he  took  up  Miriam’s  letter  first.  He  broke  the 
seal.  Miriam  sealed  her  letters,  which  always 
amused  John  : it  was  characteristic  of  the  finish 
and  satisfying  completeness  there  was  in  all  she 
did. 

He  laughed  outright  as  he  read  the  first 
words ; then  he  paused,  took  his  hat  off  and 
laid  it  on  the  table  beside  him,  pulled  towards 
him  a second  chair,  and  put  his  feet  upon  the  rail 
behind,  and  pushing  his  hair  back  from  his 
forehead,  all  wrinkled  up  as  it  was  in  his  queer 


48 


PRINCE  HUGO. 


way  when  amused,  he  settled  himself  fairly 
down  to  peruse  Miriam’s  epistle,  which  was 
lengthy,  and  required  attention  and  time. 

“ Hotel  du  Roi>  Spaalbad. 

“Mr  dear  John, — 

“ Still  in  kettles  and  steam,  which, 
considering  the  thermometer,  is  not  refreshing ! 
Still  in  this  glare,  and  racket,  and  row ; still  with 
braying  bands  under  the  windows,  and  prancing 
spinsters,  and  rouged  dowagers,  and  enterprising 
campaigners  trooping  in  crowds, — as  our  last 
friend  in  Americans  says, — ‘ all  around.’  Still 
watching  the  emergence  of  Mr.  Debugines’  gout 
from  out  his  most  retentive  system,  and  suffer- 
ing these  results  of  reflected  irritation,  which,  in 
his  delicate  organism,  are  inseparable  from  the 
mysterious  process.  Still  we  feed  in  herds,  and 
sleep  in  rows  of  cells,  and  feel  like  prisoners  on 
parole.  Still  we  are  tied  here,  in  fact,  to  endure 
a life  of  dressed-up  idleness,  of  solitary  publicity. 


NEW  SCENES  AND  SUNNY  CLIMES. 


49 


Of  promenades,  of  baths  and  water-drinkings,  of 
table  dholes  and  public  salons,  that  to  me  at 
least  is  most  uncongenial.  Or  is  it,  John,  that 
the  company  in  which  I do  it  all,  is  so  uncon- 
genial, more  than  the  life  itself?  Sometimes 
this  strikes  me,  for  under  happy  circumstances 
I seem  so  easily  amused  ; and  now,  I think,  if 
I had  you  to  saunter  up  and  down,  even  in  this 
gaudy  and  garish  place  with  me ; to  sketch  the 
funny  groups  and  couples  under  the  walnut  trees ; 
to  point  out  to  me  the  comic  view  of  it,  and  all 
the  quaint  combinations  that  I never  see  for 
myself,  I fancy  I should  enjoy  it  all,  and  think 
la  vie  aux  eatix  as  delightful  as  my  little  neigh- 
bour at  the  table  d'hote,  Mademoiselle  Levons, 
thinks  it.  She  has  come  from  Tours  with  a 
very  gouty  and  very  explosive  papa,  but  she 
does  not  seem  one  bit  to  mind  about  him,  and 
lets  him  grumble  and  scold,  and,  I am  afraid, 
even  conjure  all  the  known  and  unknown  gods 
of  mythology  unheeded,  while  she  dodges  round 


VOL.  II. 


E 


50 


PRINCE  HUGO. 


the  corner  of  the  boulevard,  just  out  of  hearing, 
but  within  decorous  reach,  with  M.  Merle,  a big 
Chasseur  cousin,  who  has  just  come  home  on 
leave  in  time  to  escort  the  little  demoiselle  and 
the  revered  uncle  aux  eaux. 

“Well,  John,  if  you  were  here  to  escort  me 
now  and  again  out  of  hearing  of  good  Mr.  De- 
bugines,  I might  not  bore  myself  so  reprehen- 
sibly  as  I have  been  doing,  for  the  last  fortnight ; 
and  might  not  be  pining  for  the  Swiss  mountains 
and  the  shores  of  the  lovely  lake  as  much  as  at 
this  moment  I do. 

“So  much — and  quite  enough,  of  myself! 
And  now — what  news  can  I send  you  of 
everybody?  Well,  first,  in  a roundabout  way, 
from  Lady  Dyncourt,  I hear  that  Harcourt  is 
really  coming  to  Switzerland,  over  some  out-of- 
the-way  pass  of  which  the  name  has  escaped 
me;  and  from  Zare  I hear  that  she  has  been 
for  some  weeks  completely  settled  at  the  Hotel 
Trois  Couronnes  at  Vevey  with  Mrs.  Redmond, 


NEW  SCENES  AND  SUNNY  CLIMES. 


51 


her  Paris-American  friend  : I suppose  that  was 
the  only  arrangement  to  make  for  her,  John,  as 
my  mother  would  help  in  nothing,  nor  counten- 
ance any  sisterly  proposal  of  mine  that  she 
should  have  stayed  with  us.  But  it  does  seem 
hard  and  unnatural  that  my  own  boy’s  ‘ beloved  ’ 
should  be  tossed  about  under  strange  protection, 
and  left  in  his  absence  to  make  the  best,  uncared 
for,  of  her  own  young  life,  while  his  every 
thought  is  ever  lovingly  with  her,  and  every 
throb  of  his  heart  is  for  her.  Oh,  he  writes  me 
such  etters  ! I have  had  several  now — the  first 
some  time  ago  from  Malta ; and  since  we  have 
heard  from  several  different  points  in  the  East. 
In  one  he  says,  ‘ Mirrell,  you  will  watch  over 
mv  Zare  for  me.  You  seem  so  near  her  there 
at  Spaalbad,  so  near  to  Switzerland,  to  Yevey, 
where  she  is,  and  I am  so  horribly  far  away — 
surely  you  could  go  to  her,  and  love  her  for  my 
sake,  Mirrell,  and  have  a care  of  her:  you  are 
so  strong  and  so  able  for  everything,  and  she  is 

E 2 

UNIVERSITY  of 

, . ILLINOIS  UBRMW 


52 


P HINGE  HUGO. 


so  delicate  and  fragile  and  young.  Go  and 
take  care  of  her  for  me,  for,  oh,  Mirrell,  I think 
she  is  my  life.  I seem  to  see  her,  and  to  think 
of  her,  and  to  long  for  her  night  and  day.  And! 
morning  by  morning,  as  I see  the  light  come  up 
over  the  sea,  I have  no  care  for  anything,  no 
wish  for  anything,  no  hope,  no  life  at  all,  but 
her — nothing  but  the  hope  to  be  back  with  her 
again,  but  the  wish  that  she  may  be,  for  ever 
and  ever  my  own.’  And  pages  and  pages  of 
this,  Roddy  writes  to  me ; and  how  can  I do 
what  he  desires  P How  can  I go  and  watch  as 
a loving  sister  over  Zare,  John,  when  I am  tied 
down  here  to  braying  bands,  and  table  ddhates? 
and  flaunting  widows,  campaigning  spinsters, 
and  hot  gout  waters — how  can  I,  I say,  and  all 
the  while  she  writes  to  me, — and  it  strikes 
strangely  upon  me, — all  she  has  got  to  say ! 

“ Zare  is  a curious  foreign  flower,  not  of  our 
garden  or  climate,  John,  and  we  cannot  pretend 
to  measure  her  by  any  standards  of  our  own. 


NEW  SCENES  AND  SONNY  CLIMES. 


53 


Here,  while  Roddy  writes  me  letters  full  of  dis- 
consolate anguish,  breathing  out  these  furnace 
sighs  with  untiring  fidelity,  pining  for  his  black- 
eyed  singing-bird,  all  unconsoled ; the  bird 
■sings  to  me  in  a sweet  undertone  of  joyous  coo- 
ing rhvthm  that  amazes  me  as  I read : sings  a 
new,  strange  song  of  her  own,  of  intense  bliss, 
— bliss  of  the  mountains,  joy  of  the  beautiful 
all  around  her,  happiness  in  some  bright  un- 
known and  all  new-found  life. 

“ ‘ Send  me  her  letters  if  she  writes  to  you/ 
pleads  Roderick.  Her  letters  ! — they  would  be 
a wonder  and  dismay  to  him.  John,  what  is 
the  meaning  of  it  ? He  is  breaking  his  heart 
and  wearing  his  life  out,  away  over  the  seas 
there  for  love  of  her,  and  she  appears  remark- 
ably— nay,  perfectly — happy  without  him  ! 

“Well,  let  me  hear  what  you  think  of  it,  and 
let  me  hear  by  return  of  post  where  you  come 
to  anchor  on  the  sunny  shore,  and  I will  watch 
my  step-parent’s  gout  with  renewed  solicitude. 


54 


PRINCE  HUGO. 


hoping  that  the  hour  may  not  delay  to  come,, 
when  the  doctor  shall  decree  authoritatively  that 
we  proceed  onwards  to  invigorate  Mr.  Debu- 
gines’  energies,  (enfeebled  by  hot  steam  and  sul- 
phuric waters,)  by  the  buoyant  breezes  and 
delicious  air  of  the  dear  Alps.  How  I wish  I 
was  there  now  with  you  when  you  read  this 
letter  at  Geneva  ! We  should  take  ship  together 
instanter,  and  go  off  in  search  of  Roderick’s 
Zare.  But  let  me  hear  of  her,  and  write  all  you 
think  of  her  present  feelings  and  her  life. 

“ I try  to  read  between  the  lines  in  her 
letters,  but  the  sort  of  thing  is  so  unfamiliar  to 
me.  She  likes  her  American  friend,  and  they 
seem  to  be  sympathetic  in  taste.  She  has  been 
singing.  Alas ! while  we  on  our  side  are  so 
inexorable,  about  freeing  her  from  such  an 
obligation,  she  must  sing ; and  she  seems  to 
have  found  appreciation,  even  beyond  usual, 
among  her  audiences,  and  to  have  found  her 
way  into  some  pleasant  society,  too.  But  it  is 


NEW  SCENES  AND  SUNNY  CLIMES. 


55 


all  such  a strange  sort  of  life  to  me,  I cannot 
form  an  opinion — only  I should  like  to  have  a 
view  from  you.  And  now,  enough,  good-bye, 
cugino  mio,  a rivederla,  and  very  soon,  I hope. 

XJ 

“ Yours  affectionately, 

“ M.  R.” 

“ Poor  Miriam  ! ” murmured  John,  smiling  to 
himself  as  he  turned  the  leaves  of  her  long  letter 
over  and  over  again,  and  re-conned  bits  here 
and  there.  “ The  square  peg  in  the  round  hole 
still.  The  haunts  of  braying  bands  and  the 
charms  of  table  (Tholes  are  not  in  her  line.  Poor 
Miriam  ! and — well,  now,  Zare  ! How  about  her, 
I wonder  ? The  little  bohemienne  making  her- 
self jolly  as  a grasshopper,  is  she  ? expanding 
like  a tropical  flower,  poor  child,  I daresay,  in 
all  this  radiance  of  sunshine  and  keen  physical 
delight : little  epicurean,  making  the  best  of 
things,  improving — like  the  spangled  butterflies 
— the  passing  shining  hour.  Well,  who  can  blame 


50 


PRINCE  HUGO. 


her?  No  use  knocking  her  pretty  head  against 
the  walls  of  the  inevitable,  like  that  foolish,  faith- 
ful boy  is  doing  on  the  seas  out  there.  A foolish 
fidelity,  an  obstinacy  of  constancy,  a positive 
fever  of  loyalty — surely  that  is  a British  attri- 
bute of  suffering  from  which  there  is  no  escape. 
Dear  me,  I hope  it  is  not  a bad  business,  this, 
all  calculated.  Let  me  see  what  Zare  says  in 
her  own  letter.” 

Zare’s  little  epistle  was  in  French,  and  ad- 
dressed to  her  “ dear  friend,  Monsieur  Jean.’ 
It  was  short,  not  a confidential  rliodomontade 
like  Miriam’s,  only  a few  rapidly  written,  vivid, 
graphic  lines.  They  said  “ Come  ” to  her  dear 


horrid  London,  without  waiting  one  /Single  day 
on  the  way.  Come  right  on  to  Vevey,  where 
she  was  so  happy,  oh,  so  happy  ! — in  this  lovely 
wave-washed  land,  where  the  air  was  full  of 
music,  and  the  mountains  of  majesty  ; where  the 
sun  shone  all  day  with  radiant  gladness  and  the 


friend — “ Come  quick,  straight  fi  smoky, 


NEW  SCENES  AND  SUNNY  CLIMES. 


57 


moon  slept  sweet  and  silvery  on  the  still  waters 
at  night ; where  the  fields  were  gay  with  flowers, 
and  the  slopes  clad  with  vineyards ; where  life 
was  in  itself  sufficient  wealth ; where  everybody 
was  charming,  because  in  such  scenes  it  was 
easy  for  everyone  to  charm ; and  where,  above 
all,  one  was  charming — a certain  old  friend  of 
his,  who  loved  him,  and  who  wished  to  see  him, 
and  who  spoke  of  him  often  and  long,  and  that 
was, — Hugo  ! Did  Monsieur  Jean  remember 
Hugo  ? — his  Serene  Highness — the  wise,  the  ac- 
complished, the  gifted  Hugo — Little  Rodavia’s 
Prince  ? ” 


CHAPTER  III. 

AI/PEN  GLUHN. 

When  John  Frere  had  read  through  Zare’s 
little  enthusiastic  letter,  he  forgot  to  light  his 
third  cigarette.  He  laid  it  down  on  the  table 
beside  him,  and  his  tinder-box  with  it,  and  he 
spread  out  the  little  scented  sheet  of  thin  note- 
paper  on  the  table  as  well ; and  then  he  leant 
back,  and  let  his  eyes  wander  dreamily  over  the 
water  and  the  distant  mountain  view,  while  for 
once  it  spoke  nothing  to  him.  Neither  the 
glimmering  river’s  light,  nor  the  mountains  in 
the  morgengliihn , so  filled  was  his  imagination 
and  memory  with  old  pictures,  and  also  possible 
new  ones,  that  flitted  swiftly  and  successively 
between  him  and  the  panorama  that  lay  beneath 
his  eyes. 


ALPENGL  UHN. 


59 


Memory  came,  painting  a rough  student  lad, 
with  satchel  and  colour-box,  with  Heine’s  Beise- 
bilder  and  Buck  der  lieder  in  his  pocket,  and 
with  alpenstock  in  hand,  arriving  sick  and 
worn,  on  a hot  noonday,  at  the  little  forest  nest 
where  the  Rodavian  Court  was, — the  gay  little 
Court, — holding  summer  revel  in  a curious  com- 
bination of  rustic  and  royal  life. 

He  saw  once  more  the  kind,  princely  face  of 
Hugo  of  Rodavia ; the  noble  presence  came 
once  more  before  him  ; the  melodious,  musical 
voice  seemed  falling  on  his  ear.  For  it  had  glad- 
dened and  cheered  him  through  many  an  hour 
of  weariness,  as  he  lay  recovering  the  prostration 
of  fever,  in  that  hospitable  and  princely  shelter 
through  long  summer  days. 

Hugo,  of  Rodavia!  In  John’s  category  of  dis- 
tinguished foreigners,  whom  his  vagrant  artist- 
life  had  led  him  to  know,  he  had  mentioned 
Prince  Hugo  of  Rodavia  as  the  best  and  noblest 
among  them  all. 


"GO 


PRINCE  HUGO. 


And  here  he  was  at  Clarens,  and  John  would 
see  him  again.  At  Clarens,  and  becoming  Zare’s 
hero,  as  he  had  been  John’s,  for  so  many  years ; 
and  Zare’s  friend,  as  he  had  been  his.  That 
little  Court  of  Rodavia  had  been  as  the  realiza- 
tion of  many  a student  dream  to  John.  It  had 
been,  as  the  Court  of  Saxe-Weimar,  brought 
back  from  the  last  century  again.  Hugo  had 
been  to  him  as  Goethe’s  Frederick,  modernized 
and  brought  back  to  life ; and  in  the  chestnut 
avenues,  and  soft  garden  shades,  and  acacia 
Berceaux,  and  quaint,  old  streets  of  Rudetz- 
burg,  Goethe  had  seemed  to  live  and  write 
again.  Frau  von  Stern  had  served  his  coffee  as 
of  old  in  the  octagon  arbour ; and  Die  Studante, 
in  crisp  manuscript,  with  ink  still  undried,  came 
once  more,  fresh  from  beneath  the  glowing  pen  ! 
And  music, — such  real  music, — seemed  to  float 
all  day  and  night  around  them, — as  the  very 
essence  of  the  air ; and  art,  and  thought,  and  all 
the  ethereal  beauty  of  ‘ the  higher  life,’  had 


ALFENGLUHN. 


61 


flowered  and  bloomed  joyously,  and  flourished 
well  in  the  genial  sunshine  of  Prince  Hugo’s 
kindly  cherishing  smiles. 

“ Silver  was  counted  as  nothing  in  that  king- 
dom,” murmured  John  to  himself,  presently,  in 
recollection  of  an  old  application  of  his  own 
of  that  ancient  simile.  “ Silver  was  counted 
nothing,  and  not  gold  even  over  much ; but 
beauty,  and  joy  of  spirit,  and  the  life  of  art,  and 
of  mind  and  soul, — blending  with  a tender 
Nature-life,  that  seemed  to  embrace  and  sur- 
round all  in  that  quaint  old  forest  town, — -these 
were  the  things  that  were  counted  glorious  in 
the  kingdom  of  my  Hugo  the  Good.  And  how 
is  it  now  with  him  ? and  where,  I wonder,  is 
‘ Madame  ma  femme!  Ah  ! that  one  grim  sha- 
dow on  the  broad  sun  ray  of  that  Arcadian 
clime  ! Is  she  in  peace  at  home,  as  of  old,  in  her 
moated  capital,  in  exclusive  state,  beyond  the 
ramparts  of  Rodenstadt  ? With  her  huge  gaunt 
lacqueys  standing  grimly  around,  and  the  glory  of 


-62 


PRINCE  HUGO. 


the  Von  Donnerblitz  safely  guarded  in  her  grim 
keeping ; while  Hugo,  the  light-hearted  and 
serene,  leads  his  Arcadian  life,  full  of  simple, 
rustic,  and  often  fanciful  pleasures  in  the  small 
secluded  forest  town  of  Rudetzburg.” 

How  it  all  came  back  to  John  ! The  gay  little 
theatre,  where  Prince  and  courtier  changed  cos- 
tumes often,  and  reversed  positions ; where 
Hugo  acted  chasseur  or  cavalier,  and  his  aide- 
de-camp  played  the  king ; where  sometimes 
Saxe-Weimar,  and  sometimes  Le  Petit  Trianon, 
came  back  to  memory,  as  he  watched  their  re- 
vival in  the  quaint  and  fascinating  life  of  that 
Rudetzburg  retreat.  Well ! And  now  Hugo 
was  playing  troubadour  by  this  mountain 
lake ! 

“ I will  go  off  straightway  and  see  them ! ” 
exclaimed  John.  “ I will  pack  my  knapsack, 
and  pay  my  bill,  and  catch  the  forenoon  boat ; 
and  I will  be  away  there,  under  the  brow  of 
Mont  Blanc  before  the  evening  falls.  Ah ! I 


ALPENGLTJHN. 


have  not  a moment  to  lose.  I must  make  off  at 
once.” 

It  was  no  defined  idea,  or  any  sort  of  tore- 
shadowing  anxiety,  that  prompted  John  to  this 
rapid  decision, — only  enthusiasm  for  his  old 
princely  friend,  an  eagerness  to  see  him  once 
more,  and  a curiosity  as  to  the  new  phases  of 
existence  about  to  be  developed,  by  this  un- 
looked-for combination,  in  their  coming  rendez- 
vous by  Lake  Leman. 

All  other  feelings  or  prognostications  of  results 
were  sunk  for  the  moment  in  his  quickly  re-born 
enthusiasm  for  Prince  Hugo;  and  his  heart  beat 
warmly  and  fast  as  he  hurried  along  the  Quai, 
towards  his  hotel,  with  his  letters,  including  that 
almost  forgotten  one  from  Lady  Dyncourt, 
crammed  away  into  his  pocket. 

It  was  not,  indeed,  till  he  was  fairly  afloat, 
and  skimming  along  in  the  little  steamboat,  by 
many  a fair  and  familiar  scene,  that  he  could  sit 
down  in  a quiet  corner  behind  the  deck  cabin. 


64 


PRINCE  HUGO. 


gather  up  his  scattered  wits  again,  and  look 
once  more  at  his  letters. 

The  boat  was  steaming  on  between  Coppet 
and  Nyon.  They  had  just  left  behind  them  the 
Coppet  pier ; and  the  thoughts  of  Corinne  and 
Madame  de  Stael,  and  of  old  Necker,  which  had 
obtruded  themselves  spontaneously  among  pre- 
sent and  more  engrossing  themes,  had  just  floated 
away  from  him  again,  as  the  tall  towers  flanking 
the  chateau  of  Coppet  faded  into  distance,  while 
the  little  puffing  steamboat  bustled  hastily  on. 

He  took  out  his  letters,  and  his  eyes  fell  upon 
Lady  Dyncourt’s.  He  was  overwhelmed  with 
immediate  self-reproach.  Fancy,  having  for- 
gotten it ! Instantly  he  must  peruse  it  now. 
She  was  far  away,  in  distant  scenes,  and  her  life 
and  her  occupations  could  have  no  semblance  to 
his  sunny  surroundings,  nor  be  in  any  ways  har- 
monious to  his  Rodavian  recollections,  for  she 
knew  nothing  of  Rodavia,  or  of  Hugo,  Rodavia’s 
dear  Prince. 


ALPENGLUHN. 


65 


But  she  was  none  the  less  a friend  highly 
esteemed  in  his  regard  also ; and  it  was  shame- 
ful that  up  to  this  moment  her  letter  had  been 
forgotten.  He  opened  it,  and  with  due  interest 
perused  it  now. 

“ My  dear  Mr.  Frere,”  it  said ; “ how  much  I 
wish  that  I were  a Bohemian,  you  already  know, 
— what  unparalleled  cause  I have  once  more  for 
reiterating  that  wish,  you  can  at  this  moment 

scarcely  conceive ! 

*/ 

“ Where  are  you,  as  you  read  my  letter  ? 
What  delicious  sunny  prospect  is  alluring  from 
the  pages  of  my  epistle  your  wandering  gaze  ? 
I can  easily  imagine  it,  as  I am  to  address  to 
Geneva.  The  snow-crowned  Alps — the  sweet, 
bright  waters — the  chestnut  groves  in  rich  foli- 
age, and  the  Jodel  echoes  of  the  Alpen  song 
reaching  you  on  the  soft  mountain  breezes  as 
you  read. 

“I  am  so  fond  of  Geneva.  What  pleasant 
days  I once  passed  there,  to  be  sure,  with  the 


VOL.  II. 


F 


66 


PRINCE  HUGO. 


Peels.  And  what  a charming  pic-nic  Baron 
P.  de  Rothschild  gave  us  once  from  his  villa  at 
Pregny.  It  eclipsed,  in  its  sumptuous  luxury, 
even  Mr.  Lynton’s  water -party  of  last  July. 

“ Dear,  lovely  Geneva,  how  perfect,  to  be 
sure,  is  the  view  from  there ! Shall  you  go  to 
Les  Delices;  or  to  Perney,  and  peep  through  the 
holes  in  the  hornbeam  berceau,  and  see  the 
weird  old  ghost,  with  his  hands  behind  him, 
walking  up  and  down.  And  oh!  please  do  go  to 
Camp  ague  Diodati,  and  read  a bit  of  ‘ Manfred,’ 
and  the  third  canto  of  ‘ Childe  Harold,’  as  I did 
when  I first  went  there,  in  the  very  room  where 
it  was  written,  and  with  Byron’s  ‘ Clear , 'placid , 
Leman , contrasting  with  the  wild  world  1 dwell 
in’,  just  before  my  eyes.  It  was  delicious. 
Dear  Geneva ! 

“ And  now,  here  I am,  writing  to  you  on  a wet 
afternoon,  in  the  course  of  a deluge  that  has  en- 
dured since  we  came  here,  and  means  to  endure 
even  until  we  go. 


ALPENGLUHN. 


67 


“ And  I am  wondering  why  I ever  came  to 
marry  Lord  Dyncourt  (much  even  as  I like  him), 
seeing  that  he  is  a hunting,  a grouse-shooting,  a 
salmon-fishing  man.  These  three  leave  no  gaps 
in  life  for  Bohemia,  or  for  the  culture  of  a 
certain  vagrant  and  aesthetical  state  of  existence, 
which,  I think,  would  have  suited  me  well. 
Frankly,  it  is  very  dull  here,  and  especially  so 
this  year.  It  is  very  well  in  sunshine,  and  some 
seasons  we  are  not  without  it ; but  this  year — 
Ah  me ! 

“ Our  lodge  is  set  high  upon  the  hills,  you 
must  know.  The  moors  rise  in  undulating 
slopes  all  round  us;  the  mists  are  rolling  heavily 
and  low  upon  them  at  this  moment,  and  that 
steady  drizzle  must  surely  blind  the  shooters’  eyes. 

“ But  they  don’t  mind  that  sort  of  thing.  It 
only  matters  to  us, — we  women  of  the  party, 
who  put  our  toes  on  the  fender  just  after  break- 
fast, and  leave  them  there  perforce  till  dinner- 
time ; and  who  gossip  and  do  crewel  work,  and 


68 


PRINCE  HUGO. 


write  letters,  much  as  we  do  in  London  in  No- 
vember, only  that  the  occasions  for  mutual  bore- 
dom are  more  vast. 

“ Dear  Mr.  Frere,  I think  I shall  be  sure  to 
like  your  wife,  when  you  marry,  for  the  simple 
reason  that  you  are  such  a very  bad  shot, — not 
that  I like  a man,  as  a rule,  who  shoots  badly ; 
for  if  a man  is  in  that  line,  let  him,  as  in  every 
other,  do  all  things  well.  I like  good  sports- 
men, but  I never  do  happen  to  like  their  wives. 
It  is  perhaps  an  odd  coincidence,  for  I am  so 
often  condemned  to  their  society ; but  so  it  is, 
and  thence  the  special  trial  of  my  position  now. 
I have  three  ladies  with  me,  all  diversely  occu- 
pied in  our  one  little  sitting-room,  as  I write. 
Not  one  of  them,’  is  a friend  of  mine, — not  one 
of  them  would  I have  chosen  for  my  companion 
through  a six  weeks’  seclusion  here  on  the  top 
of  Craigerich ; but  here  they  simply  are,  be- 
cause they  belong  each  to  a husband,  and  that 
husband  can  bag  his  twenty  brace  per  day. 


ALPENGLTJHN. 


G9 


“Again  I wish  you  were  here  now.  There 
is  a warm  purple  tint  below  the  creeping  mist 
upon  the  heather  slopes  just  beyond  my  little 
rugged  garden  that  I think  you  would  like  to 
see.  I pause  to  contemplate  it,  and  from  my 
bit  of  square  window  in  the  queer,  thick-marled 
wall  of  this  old  house,  I can  just  catch  a bit  of 
blue-grey  smoke  curling  up  from  the  broken 
chimney  of  a brown  moss-covered  ‘ botliie.’  I 
think  you  would  make  a charming  sketch  of  it, 
as  the  smoke  goes  floating  away  over  the 
heather  into  the  mist  cloud,  and  as  now  one 
faint,  soft  ray  of  sunshine  struggles  for  a moment 
from  the  dense  obscurity,  and  tips  the  brown 
cottage  eaves  with  light. 

“ I wish  you  were  here,  I repeat,  for  your  own 
pleasant  society’s  sake,  and  because  you  might 
sketch  all  this  from  the  window  for  me,  and 
take  portraits  of  my  noble  old  collies,  and  my 
beloved  staghound  on  these  long  wet  days,  as 
well. 


70 


PRINCE  HUGO. 


“But,  'where  are  you?  As  soon  as  possible, 
write  and  let  me  know,  and  keep  me  au  fait, 
please,  with  all  the  details,  from  your  point  of 
view,  of  the  Ray-La-Gonidet  romance,  telling  me 
also  of  all  your  aunt’s  gay  doings  at  Yevey  or 
at  Ouchy,  and  of  Miriam’s  way  of  taking  things 
in  general.  I hope  Harcourt  Lynton  will  find 
you  all  out,  and  then  I shall  have  news  of  you 
also  from  him. 

“ I am  pining  for  my  habitual  friends,  and  all 
that  pleasant  companionship  of  last  season.  So 
write,  all  of  you;  and  do  not,  in  your  sunny 
Bohemia,  forget  me,  pray,  in  my  mist-wrapt 
retreat  of  drizzle  and  dulness  here. 

“ Sincerely  yours, 


“ AitLh  Dykcourt.” 


CHAPTER  IV. 


ON  VEVEY  PIER. 

As  John  Erere  finished  Lady  Dyncourt’s  letter, 
he  raised  his  eyes.  That  was  a pretty  bit  of 
rustic  highland  scenery  she  had  touched  in  for 
him,  and  effective  enough  in  its  way,  but  what 
a contrast  the  grey  drizzle  of  that  mist-ruled 
height  of  hers  to  the  smiling  gladness  of  the 
Nature-life  around  him  here. 

No  wonder  bright  Lady  Dyncourt,  as  she 
trod  the  conventional  pathway  of  modern  amuse- 
ments, wished  sometimes  she  were  a Bohemian, 
and  could  live  perhaps  for  variety  in  a gipsy 
van ; or  no  wonder  the  monotonous  round  of  a 
conventional  sporting  life,  became  wearisome  to 
her  just  occasionally,  in  contrast  to  that  insouciant 
and  careless  freedom,  which  permitted  men  and 


72 


PRINCE  HUGO. 


women  of  his  type,  to  wander  through  the  sunny 
climes  of  Europe  at  their  own  sweet  untram- 
melled wills. 

He  raised  his  eyes,  as  he  thought  shiveringly 
of  northern  fog  clouds,  and  he  found  that  they 
had  steamed,  as  he  had  read,  nearly  to  Rolle, 
without  his  even  observing  it.  They  had  stopped 
at  Nyon,  and  once  more  steamed  on,  and  now 
the  vine-covered  slopes  of  La  Cote  were  in  view, 
where  grew,  and  where  he  had  often  drunk,  the 
finest  wine  of  the  whole  Vaudois  on  the  hills 
towards  Aubonne.  It  was  a charming  spot.  On 
the  opposite  side  the  lake  was  the  gulf  of 
Thonon,  at  the  mouth  of  the  valley  of  the 
Dranse;  and  straight  above  him,  rose  the  crests 
of  Mont  Blanc,  visible  by  the  favour  of  fortune 
in  the  warm  glow  of  this  lovely  August  day, 
peering  over  the  mountains  of  Chablais,  and 
glistening  silvery  in  the  tender  abendglulm. 
Such  a glow  of  colour,  such  a warmth  of  light, 
gladdened  the  whole  fair  summer  scene,  such  a 


ON  VEVEY  PIER. 


73 


radiant  smile  flashed  on  the  bine  lake,  such 
delicate  lights  glistened  on  the  vine-clad  slopes. 
Life  was  beauteous  in  this  bright  mountain  land, 
and  in  its  sweetness  it  seemed  sufficient  to  exist, 
and  to  feel,  and  to  see. 

Scotland — Lady  Dyncourt — nearly  everybody, 
faded  now  for  a few  minutes  from  John’s  mind, 
as  he  got  up  from  his  seat  with  a flush  of  warm 
colour  upon  his  cheek ; as  he  shoved  his  budget 
of  letters  deep  down  again  into  his  pocket,  and 
walked  quickly  to  the  side  of  the  little  steam- 
boat, to  gaze  and  to  enjoy  the  loveliness  of  the 
swift-passing  scenes.  He  had  many  old  associa- 
tions to  renew  with  these  ripening  vineyards, 
these  towering  snow-clad  heights,  and  all  these 
nestling  villages  on  the  sunny  shore. 

It  was  a dearly  beloved  land  of  enthusiastic 
youth  dreams  and  of  passionate  inspiration  to 
him.  He  knew  every  bay  and  promontory,  he 
had  drunk  deep  many  and  many  a time  with 
intense  interest  into  all  the  poetic  and  historical 


74 


PRINCE  HUGO. 


associations  and  strongly  suggestive  reminis- 
cences of  each  spot,  and  once  more  he  must  for 
a moment  forget  the  present  and  renew  the 
old  ardour  of  his  student  days.  As  they  swept 
past  Rolle  and  Morges,  and  he  thought  of 
Tavernier  and  of  a sunny  day  spent  years  ago  in 
exploring  the  relics  of  the  Swiss  Erivan,  on  these 
heights  above  Rolle ; as  they  paused  at  the  pier 
at  Morges,  and  the  picturesque  donjon  and 
turrets  of  Wufflens  rose  above  the  little  harbour 
of  the  town,  and  as  he  murmured  to  himself 
some  favourite  quotation  from  the  fervent 
Spanish  lines  of  Eernan  Caballero,  and  thought 
of  the  birthday  of  Don  Juan  Bohl  de  Baber’ s 
distinguished  daughter  in  that  small  obscure 
village  bv  the  mountain  lake. 

As  they  paused  at  Ouchy,  and  deposited 
troops  of  tourists  bound  for  the  Beau-Rivage  on 
the  pier,  and  as  once  more  there  came  back  to 
him  the  enthralling  association  and  deathless 
memory  of  those  two  wet  June  days,  so  fortu- 


ON  VEVEY  PIER. 


nate  for  all  posterity,  on  which  Byron  fenced 
himself  in,  from  the  boredom  of  a continuous 
summer  rain,  by  inditing  the  “Prisoner  of 
Chillon”  in  the  little  old  Hotel  d’Ancre  up  there 
in  the  town. 

And  then  Lausanne ! picturesque,  old  rugged 
Lausanne ! rising  curiously  on  the  broken  ground 
of  the  deep  ravines  that  sink  down  to  the  blue 
water  on  Mont  Jorat’s  lower  slopes.  Fair 
Lausanne,  with  its  high  peaked  roofs  and  queer 
old  streets  straggling  up  and  down,  and  with  its 
proud  castle  and  grim  cathedral,  and  bright 
terrace ; with  its  vast  panorama  of  enchanting 
view.  Fair  Lausanne!  how  pleased  he  was  to  see 
it  again ; he  had  spent  many  a leisurely  happy 
time  in  the  Mus6e  Arlaud,  among  the  pictures 
of  Diday  and  Calame.  And  in  those  enthusiastic 
young  days  of  his,  he  had  loved  to  sit  for  hours 
under  those  few  remaining  limes  and  acacias  at 
the  Hotel  Gibbon,  to  dream  of  “that  still 
night  ” of  which  the  great  historian  has  himself 


76 


PRINCE  HUGO. 


chronicled  a description.  When  “in  the  summer 
house,  in  that  lovely  garden,  the  last  line  of  the 
Home  was  written  near  the  midnight  hour,” 
when  Gibbon  “ laid  down  his  pen  and  paced  the 
acacia  berceau , knowing  that  his  life’s  work  was 
done ! ” 

And  at  last  Yevey,  where,  as  the  steamboat 
sweeps  up  to  the  pier,  the  vale  of  the  Rhone  at 
the  far  end  of  the  lake  breaks  in  upon  the 
prospect,  and  the  Dent  du  Midi  shoots  its 
snowy  peaks  high  up  into  the  glowing  sky. 
John  Frere  hated  these  great  caravansary  hotels 
like  the  Ouchy  “ Beau  Rivage  ” and  the  “ Trois 
Couronnes  ” here,  and  although  he  knew  that  it 
was  in  one  of  these  that  his  Debugines  relatives 
would  ultimately  come  to  anchor,  he  decided, 
for  his  own  part,  to  return  to  a favourite  old 
haunt  at  Rousseau’s  beloved  Clarens,  where  just 
above  the  little  village  near  the  very  spot  where 
once  the  sweet  Bosquet  cle  Julie  had  been,  he 
knew  of  a little  quaint  primitive  auberge,  where, 


ON  VEVEY  PIER. 


77 


if  the  old  gerant  was  still  living,  he  would  be 
welcomed  indeed. 

But  first,  he  thought,  he  would  walk  up  from 
the  pier  at  Vevey,  and  find  out  at  the  huge 
Trois  Couronnes  hotel  if  Zare  and  her  American 
friend  were  still  there.  For  that  letter  had  been 
lying  for  some  days  at  the  posle  restante  Geneva, 
and,  for  all  he  knew  to  the  contrary,  they  might 
have  drifted  on,  according  to  their  erratic  wont, 
further  along  the  Lake  to  Montreux  or  to  Ville- 
neuve,  or  rambled  up  the  precipitous  heights  to 
the  Rigi  Yaudois  at  Glion,  a couple  of  miles 
above. 

There  was  no  counting  on  Zare,  or  on  her 
restless  transatlantic  associate,  for  two  days 
together.  He  would  go  and  enquire  about  her, 
and  then  make  his  Avay  along  by  the  vineyard 
slopes  above  the  shore  to  Clarens,  perhaps  after 
dining  with  them  at  their  huge  table  d'hote. 
So  he  left  his  few  heavy  possessions  in  charge  of 
the  pier-men  there  at  Vevey,  and  slung  his  little 


78 


PRINCE  HUGO. 


artist’s  knapsack  across  his  shoulder,  and  stepped 
on  land. 

There  was  a variegated  and  busy  crowd  here 
scrambling  noisily  for  luggage,  and  for  patronage 
for  all  the  rival  hotels.  There  were  tourists, 
and  ladies’  maids,  and  bonnes,  and  couriers  from 
every  corner  of  the  globe.  There  was  the  in- 
evitable English  spinster,  with  blue  veil  and  sun 
spectacles,  vociferating  loudly  in  pursuit  of  her 
possessions.  There  was  the  unfailing  and  ubiqui- 
tous curate  on  his  holiday.  There  was  the 
business-like  Alpine  climber  with  stoclc  and 
valise,  stepping  nimbly  ashore  from  the  boat, 
and  setting  forth  to  walk  vigorously,  as  if  that 
instant  bound  straight  for  the  peak  of  Mont 
llosa.  There  were  a few  native  voyagers,  with 
lmmble-looking  possessions,  and  calmer  and  more 
philosophic  mien  ; and  among  them  all  the  little 
Swiss  porters,  and  the  familiar  Yevey  beggars, 
goitre  - afflicted  or  cretin,  swarming  about, 
seining  everybody’s  baggage,  quarrelling  noisily, 


ON  VEVEY  PIER. 


79 


or  whining  irrepressibly  for  groschen  and  sous. 
It  was  a bright-coloured,  turbulent,  merry 
crowd,  and  as  the  Alpeuglubn  fell  richly  upon 
them  and  the  picturesque  background  of  the 
town,  and  the  vineyard  slopes,  it  was  a gay  and 
exhilarating  scene,  for  Yevey  was  evidently  full 
of  people,  and  the  season  was  at  its  height. 

At  the  end  of  the  pier  were  donkeys,  luggage 
carts,  charabancs , fourgons , and  little  rough-shod 
horses  held  ready  by  their  eager  owners  to  serve 
for  conveyance  of  any  possible  person  or  things ; 
and  a little  apart  from  these,  standing  just  out 
of  the  rough  noisy  crowd,  and  watching  seem- 
ingly with  amusement  the  arrival  of  the  little 
Geneva  steamboat  with  its  varied  and  picturesque 
freight,  stood  a group  which  immediately  at- 
tracted John  Erere’s  notice  as  he  strolled  up 
the  pier. 

There  were  four  men, — three  standing  together, 
and  one  standing  alone,  a single  step  in  front. 
They  were  not  Englishmen,  that  was  evident, 


PRINCE  HUGO. 


SO 

although  in  dress  and  general  mien  one  or  two 
of  them  emulated  an  English  style  and  air. 
But  it  was  unsuccessful;  they  were  respectively — 
and  there  was  no  mistaking  it — German,  Italian, 
and  Swiss.  The  three  standing  together  were 
in  curious  contrast,  for  they  were  of  all  the 
nationalities  named.  A German,  blond  and 
rubicund,  with  that  semi-military,  semi-pedantic 
aspect  imparted  invariably  to  an  official  of  that 
country,  by  the  combination  of  a soldier’s 
uniform,  a German  student’s  abundance  of  fair 
tangled  locks,  and  a pair  of  spectacles,  such  as 
an  old  Sanscrit  professor,  or  a rustic  pedagogue, 
might  have  worn  in  England.  A curious  combi- 
nation, and  he  bent  his  shoulders,  and  slouched 
his  strong  form,  with  an  ease,  that  suggested  a 
military  discipline  and  drill  reaching  (as  far  as 
superficial  externals  went)  merely  to  the  extent  of 
a braided  coat.  This  young  man  stood  gazing 
silently  at  the  noisy  crowd  on  the  little  pier, 
with  an  expression  of  such  intense  solemnity  on 


ON  VEVEY  PIER. 


•%1 

his  fair  countenance,  that  it  was  apparent  he 
took  life  an  grand  serieux  at  all  times,  and  could 
discern  humour  in  few  things,  not  even  in  the 
excitement  of  that  grim  English  fmidein  in  the 
blue  veil.  He  leant  on  his  cane  and  watched 
everybody  earnestly,  as  if  the  scene  was  one  of 
deepest  interest  and  absorption,  not  at  all  a 
recreation  or  amusement  in  any  way. 

Oddly  in  contrast  was  the  keen  eager  enthu- 
siasm of  his  Italian  companion,  a man  of  small 
stature,  of  bright  twinkling  eyes,  of  merry  smile, 
of  rapid  gesture,  and  of  ceaseless,  though  rather 
sotto  voce , flow  of  talk.  He  was  pouring  his 
vehement  stream  of  comment  and  criticism  upon 
everybody  who  passed  them,  into  the  listening 
ear  of  the  third  man  who  stood  close  by  him, 
and  who  listened  evidently  much  amused. 

This  one  was  a nice-looking  fresh  young 
fellow  of  erect  form  and  energetic  aspect,  with 
blue  kindly  eyes,  and  brown  pointed  moustache, 
evidently  a Swiss,  with  all  the  simplicity  of 


YOL.  II. 


Gr 


82 


PRINCE  HUGO. 


mien,  and  composure  of  manners,  common  to  his 
nation.  He  was  a native  of  the  Vaudois,  and  of 
old  distinguished  race  and  name.  He  listened 
but  said  little,  and  what  he  did  say  in  reply  to 
the  ceaseless  chatter  of  his  Italian  friend,  was 
said  in  Italian,  in  low  suppressed  tones,  and  in 
few  short  sentences,  for  he  supplemented  re- 
mark and  filled  up  the  gaps  in  vocal  utterance, 
by  quick  decided  nods  of  his  round  dimpled 
chin. 

The  man  in  front  of  these  three  watched  the 
crowd  in  silence.  He  leant  lightly  on  a strong 
oaken  stick,  full  of  gnarls  and  excrescences,  all 
rough  and  unpolished  as  when  cut  from  the 
forest  tree.  He  wore  a well-fitting  suit  of  light 
thin  tweed  that  looked  English  in  its  make,  with 
a round  cap  of  the  same  material,  of  which  he 
touched  lightly  and  often,  the  projecting  rim,  as 
people  trooped  and  jostled  past  him,  and  as 
many  of  them  paused  in  their  bustle  and  hurry 
to  raise  their  hats  or  to  make  salutations  ini- 


ON  VEVEY  PIER. 


83 


mediately  they  observed  him,  and  met  his  cool 
grave  glance. 

He  was  a handsome  man,  perhaps  about  five- 
and-forty,  handsome  with  that  particular  style 
of  quiet  distinction,  on  which  the  personality  and 
character  seems  to  stamp  itself,  imparting  force 
to  the  mere  physical  beauty  of  feature  or  face. 
It  was  a grand  type  of  face,  and  intensely 
expressive  even  now  in  repose.  A clear  drawn 
profile,  rather  bold  than  delicate  in  its  lines  and 
curves.  A short  dark  pointed  beard  and  mous- 
tache ; crisp  dark  hair  (clustering  short  and 
close  beneath  the  rim  of  his  cap,)  which,  like 
moustache  and  beard,  was  streaked  already  with 
silver,  and  thinned  away  from  the  temples, — 
revealing  their  marked  and  massive  outlines  and 
the  width  and  phrenological  force  of  the  thought- 
ful brows.  The  face  was  a grave  one  in  silence, 
for  the  dark  beard  and  moustache  meeting 
above  the  closed  lips,  concealed  any  quiver  of 
sensibility — which  many  changeful  thoughts. 


84 


PRINCE  HUGO. 


gleaming  always  in  the  blue-grey  eyes, — might 
impart  the  while  to  the  mobile  mouth  below. 
It  was  all  hidden,  and  revealed  only  in  these 
sweet  eager  lights  that  played  and  glanced  with 
keen  power  and  versatility  beneath  dark  eye- 
lashes and  finely  drawn  brows,  which  carried — 
these  last,  in  themselves — a distinctive  attribute 
and  characteristic  of  the  fine  thoughtful  face. 
They  expressed  “ Music  ” in  their  curved  promi- 
nence, and  they  unveiled  truly — the  enshrined 
Goddess  of  Hugo  of  Rodavia’s  soul ! 

John  saw  him  directly,  and  in  one  moment 
more  his  quiet  glance  had  rested  with  scrutiny 
upon  John.  The  Englishman  removed  his  straw 
hat,  and  looked  eagerly  up  the  pier  with  a 
questioning,  hesitating  smile.  Would  he  be 
recognised?  No  doubt  of  it. 

Ten  years  had  added  laurels  to  his  art  crown, 
and  strength  to  his  alert  minute  form,  but  it  had 
changed  little  in  the  delicate  small  face,  or  in  the 
dreamy  gentle  eyes,  and  Prince  Hugo  knew 


ON  VEVEY  PIER. 


85 


immediately  tlie  wandering  student  he  had  wel- 
comed so  warmly  to  Rudetzburg — that  long  ago 
summer-day.  The  boy  student  who  had  come 
among  them  with  the  forest  fever  in  his  tired 
body,  an  alpenstock  in  his  hand,  and  little 
more  than  Heine’s  Buck  T)er  Lieder  and  Jteise- 
lilder  in  his  light  pockets. 

The  steel  blue  eyes  lighted  up  instantly  with 
curious  force  and  beauty.  They  shed  a lustre  of 
kindly  greeting  upon  John’s  face,  bright  and 
sweet  as  the  Alpengluhn.  Hugo  sprang  forward, 
and  warmly  extended  his  hand. 

“Hah — well  met  indeed,”  he  exclaimed  in 
ready  English.  “ My  good,  old,  little  friend,  I 
am  delighted  to  see  you.” 

With  an  answering  glance  of  intense  pleasure 
and  with  a rush  of  colour  to  his  cheek,  John 
clasped  the  firm  hand  in  glad  greeting  and  stood 
an  instant  silent,  with  strong  emotion  and  with  head 
uncovered  before  his  friend.  “I  am  so  pleased, 
I am  so  glad,”  repeated  the  Prince ; “ they  told 


86 


PRINCE  HUGO. 


me,  it  might  be  that  perhaps  I should  see  you. 
But  what  a happy  chance,  my  strolling  down 
this  evening  to  the  boat.  Ah,  my  good  little 
friend,  how  are  you  ? I am  as  glad  as  I can  be.” 
“ I am  very  delighted  also,  dear  Prince,”  said 
John  heartily.  “Who  would  have  thought  it, 
after  all  this  time?  Here,  on  Vevey  pier  in  this 
rabble,  you  really  knew  me  again  ? ” 

“ Ah,  I heard,  I knew  it  might  be  likely  ; 
so  when  I saw  you  I had  no  doubt.  I am  so 
pleased.  Here,  Searlati,”  he  continued  in  Italian, 
“ do  you  not  remember  our  good  little  friend  ? ” 
“ Como  di  Bacco,  Signor  Frere — not  possible  ! 
Ah,  how  enchanted  am  I.  What,  come  back  to 
us  ? Do  I remember  him,  Serenissimo  ? Who 
could  forget  that  sunny  summer  of  ’69  ! ” 

“ Ah,  yes,  that  was  a nice  year.  Yes,  but 
here  we  have  him  again,  and,  Rochsdorf,  let  me 
present  you,  my  friend  Frere,”  continued  the 
Prince,  adopting  now,  as  he  loved  to  do  in 
English,  what  he  knew  to  be  the  English  style 


ON  VEVEY  PIER. 


87 


of  address.  “ My  dear  Frere,  let  me  present 
you  to  my  chamberlain,  Baron  von  Rochsdorf, 
my  new  chamberlain  since  you  were  with  us. 
Ah,  you  remember  the  Count  von  Carnitz ; he 
left  me,  and  has  married  the  Countess  Marie 
von  Lind.  But,  you  must  hear  of  all  of  us,  you 
have  not  forgotten,  you  will  be  glad  to  make 
acquaintance  with  the  little  Music  Court  of 
Rodavia  again  ? ” 

“ Glad  ! ” exclaimed  John;  “ I can  imagine  no 
greater  pleasure,  that  could  have  befallen  me 
than  to  find  your  Highness  here.” 

“Yes,  I am  here,  I am  here  always  now  in 
the  autumn.  I have  taken  a great  love,  my 
dear  Erere,  for  this  Leman,  your  Byron  has 
made  us  admire  and  know  so  well.  I have  a 
villa  up  there,  near  Le  Chatelard  above  Clarens  ; 
and  my  dear  young  friend  here,  is  my  near 
neighbour,”  he  continued,  turning  to  the  young 
Swiss  who  stood  silent  and  observant  as  he 
spoke.  “ Let  me  present  you  to  the  Vicomte 


88 


PRINCE  HUGO. 


Merle  de  Yigne.  Ah,  you  will  see  much  of  each 
other  and  be  well  acquainted,  Frere,  before  you 
go  home  to  your  fogs  again.” 

The  vicomte  greeted  John  genially,  while  the 
Italian  shoot  him  once  more  with  energy  by  the 
hand  ; and  the  German,  with  much  keen  scrutiny 
from  behind  his  spectacles,  made  him  many 
grave  and  rather  awkward  bows. 

“Now  where  are  your  things,  your  baggage ?” 
said  Prince  Hugo  presently,  “ I have  a four g on 
and  a char  here.  We  will  put  the  things  in  the 
fourgon , Frere,  and  you  can  come  with  me  in 
the  char  and  we  will  talk  the  whole  way  along ; 
it  is  no  distance  to  Clarens.” 

But  why  should  I trouble  your  Highness  ? 
I can  easily  walk.  Yes,  I am  going  to  Clarens. 
I like  the  little  old  Auberge  de  Maron  very 
much  better  than  the  Trois  Couronnes  with  all 
its  splendours.” 

“ The  auberge,  what  nonsense  ! why,  my  dear 
fellow,”  as  the  Prince  loved,  ‘ quite  according  to 


ON  VEVEY  PIER. 


89 


the  English  ’ to  call  his  English  artist-friend. 
“ My  dear  fellow,  you  are  coming  straight  to  La 
Joie  with  me.” 

“ As  your  Highness  wills  it,”  said  John, 
slightly  bowing  in  answer.  “ There  need  be  no 
hurry  in  my  finding  my  way  to  the  Hotel.” 

“ The  Hotel — but  you  will  go  to  no  Hotel, 
you  will  come  with  me  to  the  Villa,  and  you 
will  stay  there,  my  good  little  friend,  as  long 
as  you  stay  on  the  Lake  Geneva,  or  as  long 
at  least  as  I can  remain.  Come — where  would 
you  go  ? You  know  of_  old  that  my  house, 
when  it  is  near  them,  is  the  hotel  of  my 
friends.” 

“ You  are  very  good,”  said  John  hesitating. 

“No  more — you  come  along  with  me.  You 
are  tired,  I know,  and  you  must  be  extremely 
hungry,  for  they  have  nothing  that  can  be  eaten 
on  these  little  paqvebots  now.  You  come  and 
refresh  yourself  immediately — let  me  have  no 
delay,”  and  he  turned  and  put  his  arm  within 


no 


P HINGE  HUGO. 


John’s  and  walked  slowly  beside  hitn  up  the 
pier  towards  his  carriage. 

It  was  as  pleasant  a proposition  for  his 
holiday  rest  as  could  well  be  : of  this  John  felt 
satisfied,  and  assured.  In  no  better  hands 

could  he  be  for  a month’s  congenial  sojourn 
than  in  Prince  Hugo’s,  and  under  no  more 
hospitable  or  friendly  roof  was  it  possible  to 
remain.  But  he  had  a lingering  hesitation. 
He  had  other  friends,  other  points  even,  at  that 
moment,  of  pursuit.  How,  if  he  went  straight 
with  Prince  Hugo  to  the  villa  above  Clarens, 
was  he  to  reach  the  Hotel  Trois  Couronnes  to 
enquire  for  Zare  ? Or  did  Hugo  perhaps  know 
something  of  her?  John  did  not  feel  suffi- 
ciently at  home  with  him  again  as  yet  to  ask 
questions  of  any  kind.  He  walked  on  in  un- 
certainty and  silence  for  a minute,  the  Prince 
leaning  familiarly  upon  his  arm.  There  was  not 
much  time,  however,  for  indecision.  The  quaint 
little  one- seated,  one-sided  Swiss  char  in  which 


ON  VEVEY  PIER. 


91 


it  pleased  Prince  Hugo  to  scour  the  vine- 
covered  slopes  by  Geneva,  was  standing  ready, 
and  the  sign  made  courteously  to  him  to  jump 
into  it,  was  one,  which  John  did  not  find  it  in 
him  somehow  to  disobey.  The  eager  little 
horse  with  his  jingling  bells  and  gay  trappings 
darted  restlessly  forward,  even  as  the  Prince 
gathered  up  his  reins  and  sprang  lightly  in 
front  of  John  to  the  narrow  seat ; and  away  they 
went,  followed  by  the  other  gentlemen  in  the 
big  fonrgon,  tooling  up  from  the  pier,  and 
through  the  fringes  of  the  town.  And  then 
eastward,  along  the  white  road  by  the  lake  side 
towards  Clarer.s;  with  the  glorious  Alpine  sunset 
falling  richly  around  them  and  with  the  grand 
view  over  the  glistening  water,  the  far  moun- 
tains of  the  Phone  Valley,  and  the  bays  and 
slopes  and  promontories  of  the  opposite  shore, 
lying  in  all  the  enchantment  of  the  abendglilhn 
before  and  around  them,  as  they  sped  along. 


CHAPTER  Y. 


THE  VILLA  DE  LA  JOIE. 

Now,  no  one  need  seek,  during  their  next 
Swiss  tour,  between  the  vine-covered  hills  where 
Le  Chatelard  and  Bellevue  stand  like  watch- 
towers  above  Clarens,  for  a trace  of  the  Villa  de 
la  Joie.  Eor  though  it  stood  somewhere  there- 
abouts, they  would  fail  to  find  it.  It  has 
vanished  with  that  sweet  Bosquet  de  Julie,  for 
whose  demolishment  and  transformation  into 
potato-gardens,  Byron  so  energetically  blamed 
the  worthy  monks  of  St.  Bernard,  never  pausing 
to  enquire  as  he  vented  his  vituperations  on 
their  most  venerated  heads,  whether  the  beau- 
teous Bosquet  of  tender  memory  ever  in  reality 
existed  out  of  the  Nouvelle  Ileloise.  La  Joie 
did  exist,  however,  that  August  evening  when 


THE  VTLLA  BE  LA  JOIE 


93 


John  Frere,  with  Prince  Hugo’s  deep  musical 
voice  sounding  pleasantly  in  his  ears  and  Byron’s 
passionate  lines  on : — 

“ Clarens,  sweet  Clarens, 

Birthplace  of  deep  love/’ 

rising  spontaneously  to  his  heart  and  memory, 
was  driven  up  to  its  hospitable  door. 

It  was  a spacious,  beautiful  villa,  built  some- 
what in  Italian  style,  with  wide,  cool,  marble- 
floored  rooms,  and  matted  hall,  and  low  open 
windows;  with  bright  flower  garden  and  verandah 
shades ; with  a view  from  its  noble  terraces  that, 
once  seen,  dwells  in  memory  for  ever ; with 
beauty  for  the  eye,  and  repose  for  the  tired 
frame,  and  refreshment  and  cool  seclusion  within 
and  without ; and  filled  too  in  every  corner  with 
all  that  heart  could  wish  in  the  way  of  resource, 
occupation,  and  interest  for  the  cultured  and 
enthusiastic.  It  was  lovely,  and  it  was  prac- 
tically and  delightfully  comfortable  as  well. 

Prince  Hugo  was  no  Sybarite.  Indeed,  his 


94 


PRINCE  HUGO. 


own  tastes  and  habits  of  life  were  simple,  hardy, 
and  devoid  of  self-indulgence  to  a degree.  AVhat 
was  not  musician,  and  thinker,  and  student  in 
him,  was  sportsman.  He  loved  sport  of  that 
description  that  is  loved  by  men  to  whom  the 
wilds  and  solitudes  of  the  mountain  glaciers  and 
the  dark  pine-forests  are  a poem,  and  an  ever- 
recurring  joy.  When  he  was  not  in  society  that 
was  aesthetically  soothing  and  congenial  to  him, 
he  found  ease,  recreation,  and  pleasure  in  being 
alone  with  single  hound  and  jager  at  sunrise  or 
sunset,  upon  the  fringes  of  the  deep  pine-shades 
of  his  native  forests ; or  on  the  crest  of  a rugged 
mountain  here — in  search  of  a brown  bear,  or 
a bouquetin  or  capra  ibex , — perhaps  straying 
over  the  forest  and  mountains  from  Victor- 
Emmanuel’s  careful  preserves  on  the  Italian 
heights.  He  loved  such  wild  scenes  of  nature’s 
majestic  solitudes,  and  he  was  fond  of  her  softer 
aspects  as  well. 

Hence  his  love  of  Switzerland,  where  all  was 


THE  VILLA  BE  LA  JOIE. 


95 


riclilv  to  be  found.  He  delighted  in  a wild 
expedition  over  glacier,  snow  and  ice-bound 
rocky  summits,  to  where  the  edelweiss  clustered 
on  the  corner  of  the  perilous  cliff.  He  loved 
sport,  and  all  the  varied  beauties  of  nature’s 
deepest  solitude,  as  well  as  he  loved  the  music, 
the  smiles  and  the  witchery  of  sympathetic  social 
life.  Hence  his  delight  in  this  summer  resi- 
dence which  had  become  habitual  to  him  by 
Geneva’s  limpid  waters  at  his  Villa  de  la  Joie. 
Here  all  could  be  enjoyed  in  harmonious  variety 
— sympathetic  society  always — and  nature,  in 
her  majesty,  or  in  all  her  infinite  changes  of 
softer  light  and  shade  ; and  music,  and  art,  and 
retirement,  when  he  wished  for  it,  as  well.  Here 
too  he  had  one  delight  which  in  his  German 
forest-home  was  denied  him  : he  had  his  boat, 
and  the  broad  waters  of  the  changeful  lake  on 
which  to  float,  it.  Many  evening,  and  indeed  mid- 
night, hours  were  spent  by  him  here  in  his 
Swiss  holiday  home,  dreaming  through  a soft 


96 


PRINCE  HUGO. 


summer  moonlight,  or  breasting  the  angry  wave 
of  the  swift  summer  storms ; and  of  all  the 
pleasures  of  his  versatile  and  eager  existence 
perhaps  this  was  the  one  which,  next  to  music, 
Prince  Hugo  most  intensely  enjoyed. 

John  Prere  had  changed  his  dusty  raiment, 
and  refreshed  mind  and  body  in  the  large  cool 
room  to  which  he  had  been  conducted  imme- 
diately on  his  arrival ; and  where  he  had  spent, 
during  his  toilet,  according  to  his  wont,  many 
lingering  moments  in  gazing  from  the  widely 
opened  French  windows,  that  led  under  a broad 
green  verandah  on  to  a balcony  over-hanging 
the  lake,  and  commanding  a far  view  towards 
Chillon,  the  Alps  of  Valais,  and  the  Gorge  of  the 
Rhone.  In  spite  of  these  distractions  he  was 
ready  when  the  Prince’s  valet  knocked  at 
his  door  and  told  him  that  “ Son  Altesse  ” had 
descended,  and  John  hurried  down ; anxious  to 
be  in  time  for  the  important  moment,  when,  the 
stately  maitre  d’hotel  would  announce  dinner 


THE  VILLA  DE  LA  JOIE. 


97 


and  the  ceremonious  procession,  (which  etiquette 
enforced  even  at  the  Forest  Chalet  of  Rudetz- 
burg,)  took  place  into  the  dining-room.  He  was 
more  than  in  time,  evidently ; for  when  the 
Prince’s  private  attendant,  who  had  waited  to 
escort  him  downstairs,  had  handed  him  over  to 
the  group  of  gorgeous  lacqueys  who  lined  now 
the  entrance-hall ; and  when  one  of  these  had 
conducted  him  to  the  ante-chamber, — John, 
passing  through  it,  arrived  to  find  the  drawing- 
room still  empty,  the  low  windows  standing  open 
and  the  glow  of  the  mountain  sunset  flooding 
deliciously  over  the  lake-view  beyond.  He 
paused  a moment,  glancing  round  the  fine  pro- 
portions of  the  room.  It  looked  so  beautifully 
cool,  and  was  so  unpretentious,  almost  simple, 
in  the  aspect  of  its  arrangements,  and  yet  so 
exquisite  and  costly  in  the  actual  details  that 
produced  the  pleasing  harmony  of  the  whole  : — 
the  delicate  colouring  of  the  walls  which  had 
just  tone  enough  to  throw  up  into  soft  outlines 


YOL.  II. 


H 


98 


PRINCE  HUGO. 


a few  lovely  pieces  of  statuary  that  on  pedestal 
or  bracket  stood  in  corner  or  alcove;  the  sub- 
dued cool  tints  of  the  tesselated  marble  floor 
— covered  with  curiously  woven  matting,  just 
where  the  footsteps  might  naturally  fall,  ,and 
with  pieces  of  warm-hued  Indian  carpet  placed 
in  front  of  each  low,  luxurious  chair ; with  huge 
vases  of  flowers  and  tufts  of  graceful  verdure 
and  bits  of  drooping  foliage  clustering  in  every 
appropriate  spot ; and  with  a large  conservatory 
opening  from  one  side,  where  the  eyes  rested 
gratefully  upon  banks  of  delicate  fernery,  from 
which  sweet  rich  odours  came  of  many  a soft- 
lmed  tropical  flower ; and  where  stood  the  grace- 
ful form  of  a naiad,  who,  shrinking  away  from 
view  among  the  foliage  and  the  blooms,  held 
aloft  a classical  shaped  concilia,  from  which  she 
poured,  with  a cool,  rippling,  musical  flow,  a 
silvery  spray  of  water  into  a marble  pool  at  her 
feet. 

Beyond  the  drawing-room,  opening  from  it 


THE  VILLA  BE  LA  JOIE. 


99 


and  visible  between  two  festooned  violet  curtains, 
was  the  music  hall ; and  John,  observing  this, 
was  roused  from  the  poetic  meditations,  into 
which  that  startled  naiad  nestling  among  the 
flowers  had  inveigled  his  ready  fancy,  and,  step- 
ping to  the  opening  between  the  curtains,  looked 
down  the  length  of  the  music  salle.  It  was 
a charmingly  improvised  little  concert-room, 
fitted  with  its  rows  of  red-covered  seats.  With 
raised  da'is  at  one  end  for  the  musicians,  with 
grand  piano,  and  music  stands,  and  big  violon- 
cello leaning  up  in  one  corner,  and  with  piles 
of  music  and  medley  of  instrument  cases  and 
director’s  desk.  Evidently  Hugo  of  Rodavia 
was  as  fond  of  all  his  old  occupations  as  ever. 
There  was  his  place — there,  in  the  centre  of  the 
first  row ; and  there  were  the  arm-chairs  stretch- 
ing from  side  to  side  of  his  for  invited  guests, 
just  as  it  used  to  be  at  Rudetzburg ; and  here,  at 
that  very  moment,  at  his  very  elbow,  was  Prince 
Hugo  himself!  He  had  come  in  through  the 


100 


PRINCE  HUGO. 


open  window,  and  though  treading  firmly  over 
the  soft  matting,  John  had  been  so  absorbed 
in  his  thoughts  of  things  past,  present,  and  to 
come,  that  he  had  not  heard  him.  He  turned 
now,  and  bowed  courteously  and  apologetically 
as  he  found  he  had  been  standing  with  his  back 
turned,  and  without  hearing  the  Prince ; and  the 
latter  smiled. 

“ You  are  refreshed  ? ” he  said. 

“ Thank  you,  yes,  certainly.  Who  could  help 
being  instantly  refreshed,  soul  and  body,  i non 
prince,  by  a sudden  translation  such  as  I have  ex- 
perienced into  your  enchanted  kingdom  again  ? ” 

The  Prince’s  glance  brightened  with  pleasure 
in  reply.  He  was  indeed  a handsome  and  a 
stately-looking  man,  as  he  stood  now  in  his 
careful  evening  attire ; grave  of  countenance,  save 
for  the  frequency  of  a twinkle  of  merriment 
which  crept  often  into  his  deep  eyes,  flashed  and 
glistened  there  a moment,  then  disappeared  ; 
stern  of  countenance,  moreover,  were  it  not  for 


THE  VILLA  HE  LA  JOIE. 


101 


that  gleam  of  latent  humour,  and  for  the  softness 
and  sweet  kindliness  of  the  smile  with  which  his 
lips  curled  so  readily  as  he  met  the  glance  of  a 
congenial  friend.  He  was  straight  and  stalwart 
of  form,  and  he  little  needed  the  star  that 
gleamed  upon  his  breast,  or  the  ribbon  of  Von 
Donnerblitz  that  encircled  his  neck,  to  impart 
dignity  or  suggest  distinction  to  his  courtly 
presence. 

“ Do  you  like  my  little  concert-room  ? ” 

“ I think  it  is  charming,  it  is  one  more  re- 
miniscence of  dear  Rudetzburg.” 

“ Ah,  my  dear  Rudetzburg.  Yes,  but  I do 
not  know  that  this  little  concert-room  is  not 
now  almost  as  dear.  I have  detached  myself 
from  the  forests,  Frere,  and  anchored  my  in- 
terests for  my  days  of  holiday  now  in  this  place. 
It  is  fair  enough,  is  it  not?  you  Englishmen 
can  understand  my  fancy.  Your  Byron  has 
done  more  than  any  one  to  teach  even  us  of  other 
lands  to  love  the  Lake  Leman.” 


102 


PRINCE  HUGO. 


“I  think  it  is  all  simply  perfect,”  said  John. 
“ How  kind  of  yon,  my  dear  Prince,  to  let  me 
be  your  guest  once  more.” 

“ I am  delighted,  I have  heard  of  you,  I say. 
I hoped  you  were  coming.  Let  us  go  on  the 
terrace ; it  wants  still  some  minutes  to  dinner- 
time. Come  out,  and  look  at  the  sunset  with 
me.”  And  they  passed  out  together  through 
the  matted  drawing-room  by  the  low  open 
window  on  to  the  terrace  beyond.  And  then 
for  the  first  time  the  Prince  mentioned  the  name 
that  John,  from  some  intuitive  feeling  of  re- 
luctance, could  not  bring  himself  to  utter  to  him. 

“ You  know  Mademoiselle  Zare  La-Gonidet, 
Prere  ? ” the  Prince  suddenly  said. 

“I  have  known  her,”  answered  John,  with  a 
curious  earnestness  and  gravity,  unaccountable 
to  himself,  “ since  she  was  a little  student,  just 
beginning  her  career  in  Paris.” 

“ Ah,  so  she  tells  me,”  and  then  the  Prince 
was  silent.  He  had  turned  a quick  sudden 


THE  VILLA  DE  LA  JOIE. 


103 


glance  of  enquiry  upon  John  as  he  spoke.  He 
met  his  eyes  just  for  one  instant,  then  turned 
his  own  rather  haughtily  away.  He  put  his  hand 
up  and  passed  his  fingers  under  the  glittering 
star  of  Rodavia  upon  his  breast,  and  then  he 
drew  up  his  head  and  carried  it  high  for  a 
moment  as  he  paced  the  terrace  in  the  evening 
sun-glow  in  silence  by  John  Frere’s  side.  Then 
he  suddenly  looked  down  upon  the  gravel, 
still  averting  his  glance  from  John.  “ She  is  a 
gifted  artiste ,”  he  gravely  said.  “ I was  very 
delighted  to  find  her  here.” 

“ Your  Highness  knows  her  then  ? ” said  John. 

“ She  has  not  told  you?”  he  answered  enquir- 
ingly, and  rather  surprised  ; then,  before  John 
could  make  rejoinder,  “ Yes,  I know  her,  she 
comes  here  to  me  nearly  every  evening.  1 1 
is  charming  ; we  have  a concert  almost  every 
night.” 

“ I see  your  Highness  is  as  fond  of  music  as 


ever  ” 


104 


PRINCE  HUGO. 


“ Fonder,”  lie  said,  with  a curious  passionate 
and  wistful  echo  in  his  voice.  “ It  is,  as  always, 
the  one  lovely  thing,  with  which  I delight  to 
enrich  my  life.” 

Then,  after  a pause  which  John  did  not  feel 
it  incumbent  on  him  to  break,  the  Prince  con- 
tinued in  an  altered  tone  again  : 

“ There  are  several  other  distinguished 
members  of  the  London  and  Parisian  corps 
iV opera  at  the  Trois  Couronnes  at  Yevey,  and 
they  come  often  also,  but  none  pleases  me  so 
much  as  Madlle.  Zare.  She  has  not  gone  on 
your  stage  ? ” 

“ No,”  said  John  in  a rather  more  eager  de- 
cided tone  than  he  was  aware  of.  “ Indeed  no, 
Zare  is  not  to  go  on  the  stage.” 

“ So,  no  ?— it  is  a pity,  she  has  a great  talent.” 
Then,  after  another  moment’s  silence  : 

“ You  will  see  her  to-night.” 

John  started — he  could  not  tell  himself  why — 
but  the  denotement  was  so  unexpected  to  him. 


TEE  VILLA  1)E  LA  JOIE. 


105 


Zare,  their  little  artiste , — Zare  ! With  her  young 
dawning  talent,  whom  he  was  setting  out  to  seek 
on  the  lake-side  here,  expecting  somewhere  to 
find  her  taking  her  grateful  holiday, — unknown 
and  insignificant  under  the  protecting  wing  of 
a kind  friend.  He  was  to  meet  her  here  to- 
night,— in  this  enchanted  art-palace  of  Prince 
Hugo,  in  this  revival  scene  of  his  own  mystical 
Rodavian  art-dream  ! to  meet  her  as  the  favoured 
guest,  the  chosen  artiste , the  Prima  Donna  of 
Hugo’s  aesthetic  court;  to  find  her  enshrined, 
enthroned,  and  laurel-crowned ; her,  the  little 
friend  he  had  come  to  seek  for, — Roderick’s  be- 
loved Zare ! There  was  something  unusual  in 
Hugo’s  manner  all  this  time,  as,  in  curt  and 
broken  phrases,  he  made  his  communication, 
walking  with  slow  and  rather  stately  footsteps 
on  the  terrace  bv  John;  scrutinising  his  friend 
the  while,  from  time  to  time  as  he  spoke,  with 
quick,  grave,  penetrating  glances,  as  if  he  would 
read  and  solve  an  enigma — if  it  might  be  that 


106 


PRINCE  HUGO. 


there  was  one,  in  John’s  old  and  eager  feeling  for 
Zare  La-Gonidet,  and  in  his  coming  in  search  of 
her  now. 

“You  will  see  her  to-night,”  the  Prince  re- 
peated; and  then,  before  they  could  say  more, 
the  maitre  d' hotel  approached  them  to  announce 
dinner.  Rochsdorf,  the  German  chamberlain, 
came  out  upon  the  terrace  at  one  window,  and 
Scarlati  and  M.  de  Vigne  appeared  waiting  at 
the  other.  The  Prince  turned  and  placed  his 
hand  within  John’s  arm  again. 

“ Allons,  mou  cher ,”  he  said  abruptly,  and 
then  walked  quickly  with  him  along  the  terrace. 
He  entered  by  the  drawing-room  window,  passing 
with  a slight  bow  between  the  other  two.  Then 
suddenly  he  withdrew  his  arm  from  John,  and 
advancing  a step,  walked  before  them  all,  with  a 
grave  and  rather  absent  expression  of  counten- 
ance as  if  he  had  almost  forgotten  them,  into  the 
dining-room.  During  dinner  also,  the  Prince 
was  rather  silent,  only  courteously  joining  in  the 


THE  VILLA  DE  LA  JOIE. 


107 


conversation  just  sufficiently  to  sustain  it,  and 
addressing  each  of  his  four  friends  respectively 
in  turn,  and  in  such  a tone  as  to  call  forth 
remarks  and  an  even  contribution  to  the  general 
converse  from  each  ; being  continuously  and  in- 
variably cordial  to  John,  on  whom  he  pressed  his 
favourite  Yvorne  wine,  and  whose  attention  he 
drew  to  the  lovely  Lily  of  the  Alps,  of  which 
the  rich  lilac  cups  adorned  the  table,  noting 
its  difference  to  the  hardier  wild-lily  of  the 
German  forest,  which  has  grown  round  them  at 
Rudetzburg.  Coffee  and  a bundle  of  tiny 
cigarettes,  which  were  laid  carefully  before 
each  guest  as  dinner  was  concluded,  were 
but  just  discussed,  when  the  ringing  of  bells 
and  the  hurrying  footsteps  of  the  servants  in 
the  vestibule,  and  the  roll  of  carriage  wheels, 
announced  the  evening  guests  as  about  to 
arrive,  and  the  Prince  rose.  He  bowed  slightly 
as  he  stood  at  the  head  of  the  table  for  an  instant, 
and  as  his  four  guests  sprang  to  their  feet  at 


108 


PRINCE  HUGO. 


each  side,  “ Conduct  Frere  to  the  salon,  Rochs- 
dorf,”  he  said  curtly ; and  without  another  word 
he  turned  and  left  the  room  : not,  however,  by 
the  door  leading  to  the  music  hall  or  the  tesse- 
lated  drawing-room,  but  through  a curtained 
archway  that  on  one  side  the  diuing-room  con- 
ducted, through  a smoking  divan  and  by  a short 
carpeted  passage,  into  his  private  rooms. 


CHAPTER  VI. 


HIS  PRIMA  DONNA. 

A little  later,  and  John  Prere — wondering 
much  what  it  was  all  coming  to  and  feeling  as 
he  used  to  do  at  Rudetzburg,  as  if  he  had  gone 
to  sleep  suddenly  and  was  wandering  in  the 
dream-land  of  a fairy  tale — was  conducted  by 
Rochsclorf  and  Scarlati  into  the  drawing-room ; 
where  the  evening  shadows  were  falling  duskily 
now,  and  from  which  apartment  you  could  see 
at  one  side,  glowing  softly,  the  globes  of  light, 
which  had  been  hung  among  the  fernery  and  the 
tropical  flowers  around  the  naiad’s  graceful 
startled  form ; and  at  one  end,  through  the  still 
open  window,  might  gaze  over  the  dark  mys- 
terious prospect  of  the  gathering  night  across 
the  water’s  blue  silent  lustre,  and  towards  the 


110 


PRINCE  HUGO. 


mountains  rising  majestically  to  the  deepening 
sky ; while  at  the  further  end  might  be  seen, 
through  the  vista  between  the  violet  curtains,  the 
concert-room,  filling  and  lit  up,  where  musicians 
were  already  tuning  their  instruments,  and  some 
one  was  touching  with  soft  chords  the  grand 
* piano. 

Forgetting  the  nachtgliihn  upon  that  glorious 
lake-view,  neglecting  naiad  and  silvery  fountains 
and  cool  fern-shades  alike,  John,  following  his 
two  companions,  passed  hastily  into  the  music 
satte.  What  a curious  audience  were  gathered 
there.  The  Prince  was  ready  in  hospitality.  It 
needed  little  more  than  a card  left,  with  some 
pretence  at  introduction,  with  the  big  Suisse 
porter  at  the  entrance  hall,  to  ensure  an  invita- 
tion to  those  musical  reunions  at  the  Villa  de  la 
Joie  for  American  or  English  tourists,  or  for  any 
wanderer  or  sojourner  at  the  hotels  of  Vevey, 
Ouchy,  or  Montreux — no  matter  from  what 
corner  of  the  four  continents  they  might  origin- 


1IIS  PIIIM A DONNA. 


Ill 


ally  hail.  It  implied  little,  certainly,  as  far  as 
the  Prince  was  personally  concerned,  little  be- 
yond the  necessity  on  his  part  of  acknowledging 
the  many  grateful  salutes  that  reached  him,  as 
he  loitered  on  the  pier  or  lake  shore,  or  drove 
along  by  the  public  way.  Por  he  neither 
received  nor  conversed  with  anyone  on  these 
occasions,  merely  inviting  them  by  card  from 
Scarlati  or  Rochsdorf,  to  join  that  feast  of  music 
to  the  delights  of  which  he  entirely  resigned 
himself;  and  permitting  them, — provided  he 
happened  to  retire  instantly  into  his  own 
apartments  or  on  to  his  particular  and  exclusive 
piece  of  terrace, — to  pass  through  the  drawing- 
room and  ante-chamber — to  admire  his  few 
beautiful  pieces  of  painting  and  sculpture  ; and 
to  walk  out  upon  the  broad  gravel-square  in 
front  of  the  centre  windows — to  contemplate 
from  this  famous  point  of  view  Mont  Blanc  (if 
it  were  visible),  but  at  least  the  dark  Rocks  of 
Meillerie,  the  Peaks  of  the  Dent  d’Oche,  and  of 


112 


PRINCE  HUGO. 


the  Valais  Alps,  in  all  the  glory  of  the  light  of 
the  August  moon  which-  had  generally  risen 
luminously  upon  them  by  the  time  of  the 
concert’s  close. 

A curious  assembly ; and  John,  as  he  passed 
up  from  behind  them,  entering  below  the  violet 
curtains,  following  Scarlati  and  Rochsdorf  for- 
ward, between  the  rows  of  benches  towards  the 
stage  and  into  the  circle  of  the  Prince’s  private 
set,  scanned  with  amusement  the  diversified 
faces  and  the  oddly  assorted  toilets,  some  gor- 
geous and  the  result  of  much  forethought,  some 
evidently  scratch  affairs,  got  up  hurriedly  as 
well  as  might  be,  while  en  voyage,  and  quite 
by  the  way. 

Into  the  circle  of  the  Prince’s  friends  there 
passed,  by  another  entrance  near  the  stage, 
many  notable  persons,  however,  each  heralded 
by  Hugo’s  courteous  attendants,  resplendent  in 
the  liveries  of  Von  Donnerblitz,  and  conducted 
respectively  to  their  seats  by  Baron  von  Rcchs- 


Ills  PEIMA  DONNA. 


113 


dorf,  in  his  capacity  of  chamberlain,  as  they  each 
came  in.  There  was  a group  of  Russian  elite, 
and  among  these  a dusky-cheeked  princess,  who, 
during  the  evening,  smoked  several  cigarettes. 
There  was  a German  Herzog  and  his  duchess, 
and  an  Italian  patriot  strayed  across  the  moun- 
tains— a friend  of  Prince  Hugo’s  in  former  days. 
There  were  two  English  peers  : one  with  a nice 
bevy  of  English  school-girls,  whom  the  Prince 
admired  enthusiastically,  and  made  always 
-eagerly  welcome  to  his  musical  fetes ; and  the 
other  with  only  one  rather  antique,  aristocratic, 
severe-looking  daughter,  the  Lady  Selina  Sud- 
leigh,  who  stared  about  her  after  Rochsdorf  had 
ceremoniously  found  her  a seat,  as  if  she  were 
not  quite  sure  of  the  position  and  had  some 
misgivings  at  allowing  herself  to  be  found  there. 
Consolation  came  to  her  in  the  shape  of  a young 
Londoner  presently,  a man  quite  un exceptionally 
“ smart  ” in  the  London  acceptation  of  the 
term, — who  assured  her  as  he  sat  down  that 


VOL.  II. 


I 


114 


PRINCE  HUGO. 


these  reunions  of  Prince  Hugo’s  were  everything 
that  was  most  repandu,  and  that  he  himself — 
determined  to  have  the  special  entre  to  the  arm- 
chaired  circles  in  front  here — had  obtained,  as  a 
great  favour,  a personal  note  of  presentation  to 
the  Prince  from  the  Bavarian  Ambassador  before 
leaving  town.  “ You  will  see  all  sorts  of  people,” 
he  added.  “ It  is  tremendously  worth  doing. 
Lady  Selina,  no  doubt  of  it.” 

Then  one  after  another,  known  and  really 
distinguished  personages  dropped  in,  to  Lady 
Selina’s  further  encouragement.  A great  painter, 
with  whose  appearance  she  was  well  acquainted 
in  the  very  best  houses  at  home,  and  who  was 
taking  his  autumn  holiday  this  year  in  view  of 
Mont  Blanc  ; a musician,  equally  well  known 
to  fame  and  fashion,  who  played  constantly  to 
Prince  Hugo  at  his  small  artistic  dinners,  or  at 
the  hour  of  the  abendgliihn,  but  never  at  such 
assemblies  as  were  here  to-night, — a musician, 
who  had  a beautiful  little  clidlet  of  his  own 


HIS  PRIM  A DONNA. 


115 


(rivalling  even  La  Joie  in  its  charm)  situated 
near  the  murmuring  waterfall  that  rushes  over 
the  mountain  slopes  above  Montreux.  His 

appearance,  with  Madame  B , his  charming 

and  ever  popular  wife,  much  consoled  Lady 
Selina  Sudleigh,  and  filled  her  with  the  pleasing 
assurance  that  when  she  described  this  scene  of 
music,  and  light,  and  gaiety  and  beauty  and 
pleasure,  she  might  boast  of  having  enjoyed  it 
in  the  best  possible  company. 

Hugo  came  in  quietly,  while  people  were  still 
bustling  to  find  their  seats.  He  bowed  with 
grave  courtesy  to  the  assemblage  generally,  and 
shook  hands  with  one  or  two  friends. 

Then  he  glanced  at  the  raised  dais,  drew  his 
watch  out,  glanced  at  it,  and  looked  impatient ; 
then  stood  silent  a moment  in  front  of  his 
own  seat,  looking  across  the  rows  of  faces 
behind. 

He  whispered  a word  to  Baron  von  Rochsdorf, 
who  with  John,  Scarlati,  and  Comte  de  Vigue, 


116 


PRINCE  HUGO. 


now  stood  close  to  him,  and  they  both  looked 
up  towards  the  stage. 

Viardet,  a famous  French  pianist,  was  standing 
close  to  the  instrument,  and  around  and  behind 
him  several  other  musicians  were  arranging 
stands  and  music,  and  awaiting  a sign  from 
Prince  or  director  to  begin ; all  standing,  how- 
ever, for  the  Prince  did  not  take  his  seat,  and 
waiting  because  he  appeared  inclined  to  wait. 

There  were  three  centre  fauteuils  close  to 
where  Hugo  and  his  group  of  friends  were  now 
standing,  central  among  Russian  dignitaries, 
German  Herzoginn , English  peers,  and  other 
potentates  of  the  earth ; and  these  remained 
empty,  while  the  Prince  still  waited  and  stood 
in  silence. 

He  had  not  long  to  wait.  The  curtains, 
festooned  over  the  entrance  at  the  right-hand 
corner  of  the  concert-room  (by  which  there  had 
passed  into  the  front  ranks  the  Prince’s  special 
and  most  distinguished  friends)  were  raised  once 


HIS  PRIMA  DONNA. 


117 


more  at  each  side  simultaneously,  and — before 
anyone  could  pass  before  her,  to  announce  or 
escort  her — there  entered  Zare  ! 

She  walked  calmly,  rather  shyly,  but  perfectly 
composed  and  alone,  just  only  a little  in  front, 
however,  of  her  friend  Mrs.  Redmond,  the 
American  lady  in  whose  charge  she  had  come  to 
Switzerland,  and  who,  in  a beautiful,  Worth-like 
toilet,  followed  her  with  several  other  Americans 
close  behind. 

The  Prince  turned  and  went  quietly  forward. 
In  a moment  Zare’s  hand  was  in  his,  and  he 
retained  it,  while  he  murmured  a low  word  of 
reproach  that  she  had  come  so  late.  Then  his 
lips  parted  in  a soft,  grave  smile,  and  his  eyes 
passed  slowly  over  her  countenance  as  he  spoke, 
with  a lingering,  wistful  look  in  them,  that  it  was 
difficult  to  read.  She  answered  with  a playful 
smile  full  of  ease  and  confidence,  and  she 
looked  straight  up  into  his  grave  face  with  a 
sunny  light  in  her  own  great,  dark,  eager  eyes. 


118 


PRINCE  I1VG0. 


He  shook  his  head,  but  smiled  back  again, 
and  then  he  drew  himself  up  suddenly  with  a 
curious  haughty  gesture  habitual  to  him, 
and  he  turned  and  drew  her  hand  within  his 
arm. 

“ Good  evening,”  he  said  genially  to  Mrs. 
Redmond ; and  then  he  bowed  with  courteous 
welcome,  and  with  a movement  of  his  hand  to 
her  group  of  American  friends,  glancing  at  the 
same  time  towards  Rochsdorf,  who  promptly 
took  them  under  his  wing. 

Then  Prince  Hugo,  with  Zare  still  leaning 
upon  his  arm,  indicated  the  chair  at  his  right 
hand  to  the  spouse  of  that  eminent  trans- 
atlantic republican,  Mr.  Percy  B.  Redmond,  and 
moved  forward  to  place  Zare  on  his  other  side. 
But  he  remained  with  her,  standing  yet  a 
moment  as  he  signed  to  M.  Viardet  and  to 
the  director  of  the  musicians,  and  then  bent 
again  to  say  something  further  in  a low  tone 
to  her. 


HIS  PBIMA  DONNA. 


119 


She  apparently  assented,  and  stood  looking 
up  at  him  again,  speaking  rapidly  and  low. 

She  had  turned  a little,  and  now  nearly  faced 
the  whole  assembled  audience  as  she  stood,  and 
with  them  John  Frere,  whom  she  never  observed 
up  to  this  moment.  John,  who  stood  in  re- 
spectful aside  as  the  Prince  moved  forward,  and 
who  remained  transfixed  with  mingled  tumultu- 
ous thoughts  and  sensations,  as  he  contemplated 
his  quondam  companion-student  Zare. 

How  little  he  had  realised,  all  these  student 
years,  what  a lovely  woman  and  charming  artiste 
she  was  to  become  ! 

The  realisation  had  broken  upon  him  for  the 
first  time  in  London  ; now  it  came  afresh  upon 
him  with  renewed  wonder  indeed.  Zare  was  in 
full  evening  dress  to-night — in  her  favourite 
shade  of  soft,  creamy  silk ; with  jewels  glittering 
in  her  dark  hair,  and  with  pearls  which  Mrs. 
Redmond  had  lent  to  her  glistening  at  her  ears 
and  twined  round  her  neck ; with  the  bright 


120 


PRINCE  HUGO, 


light  of  the  concert-room  reflected  in  her  eyes  -r 
and  with  a soft  glow  of  colour  on  her  downy 
cheeks. 

Thus  Zare  burst  anew  upon  his  vision,  dazzling 
him,  like  southern  sunshine,  as  she  came  slowly 
across  to  her  seat,  leaning  on  the  Prince’s  arm. 
She  moved  with  a quiet,  unruffled  dignity  too, 
that  most  truly  amazed  him ! How  she  had 
gained  in  lustrous  beauty  in  these  few  short 
weeks  ; and  much  more  than  this,  how  wonder- 
fully she  had  gained,  not  alone  in  beauty,  but  in 
dignity  and  in  presence  as  well ; in  that  inde- 
scribable, undefinable  evidence  of  power,  in  fact, 
which  comes  to  an  artiste  as  the  last  final  crown 
of  her  investiture;  comes  with  the  full  recog- 
nition of  her  genius,  comes  from  the  force  of 
appreciation  and  from  a new  deep  conscious- 
ness of  life,  born  beneath  the  ringing  voice  of 
applause. 

It  was  this  that  gave  her  movements  new 
grace  and  dignity,  and  her  bearing  that  queen- 


HIS  PRIMA  DONNA. 


121 


liness  of  conscious  power.  This  was  evident  and 
comprehensible — but,  even  beyond  this,  John 
could  detect  a change  ! What  brought  that  soft 
rich  glow  to  her  cheek,  and  that  happy  sunny 
light  to  her  eyes  ? That  winning  playful  smile 
with  which  she  had  quelled  Prince  Hugo’s  im- 
patience and  remonstrances;  that  perfect  ease, 
that  aspect  of  unperturbed  and  unsuspicious 
confidence  with  which  she  leant  upon  his  arm, 
answered  back  his  words,  and  returned  that  keen, 
grave  gaze  of  his  which  seemed  to  sink  down 
searchingly  into  the  dark,  shadowy  depths  of  her 
large  eyes  ? 

Whence  came  all  this  intercourse — happy  and 
familiar  as  if  it  were  a thing  of  old  ? This  new 
glow,  this  joy  and  vitality  of  something  yet  more 
than  genius  ? It  seemed  to  enfold  Zare  as  John 
gazed  wonderingly  upon  her,  and  tried  to  realise. 
“What,”  he  wondered  silently,  “had  come  to 
Zare  ? ” John  suddenly  sighed — a short,  quick, 
involuntary  sigh — as  he  watched  her  still,  as  he 


122 


PEIS CE  IIUGO. 


saw  her  take  her  place  beside  Prince  Hugo  so 
coolly,  and  so  much  as  a matter  of  course ; as  a 
revelation  violently  forced  itself  upon  his  mind ; 
and  as  he  thought  of  Roderick,  of  c Madame 
ma  femme  ’ far  away  at  Rodenstadt,  and — of 
Miriam’s  letter  ! 

A.  H.  COULDH'Y. 

DRAPER,  STATION,  R,  1 i<  ..iONGER, 

BEN/1  RIDGE. 

ISLE  " F W C H T. 


CHAPTER  VII. 


THE  PRINCE  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

After  that,  the  concert  was  as  a dream  to 
John, — more  than  this,  a nightmare. 

He  never  could  recollect  the  name  of  anything 
to  which  he  listened  then — and  it  was  only 
•during  his  after  life  that  he  occasionally  became 
aware  of  one  thing,  and  another,  that  he  had  heard 
that  night,  by  certain  painful  and  haunting  sensa- 
tions which  certain  pieces  of  music  spontaneously 
recalled.  And  with  certain  lovely  songs,  the 
effect  upon  him  of  Zare’s  voice  (as  she  sang  with 
a force  and  intensity  of  beauty  such  as  he  had 
never  heard  in  its  thrilling  echoes  before)  would 
return  and  haunt  him  for  long  after,  and  bring 
back  to  him  always,  the  recollection  of  his  strong 
feelings  of  bewilderment  and  unaccountable  pain. 


124 


PRINCE  HUGO. 


And  constantly  in  after  years  he  would  recall 
to  himself,  Zare,  as  she  stood  several  times  that 
night  upon  the  crimson  dais  before  them,  with 
Viardet’s  soft  accompaniment  following  the 
modulations  of  her  glorious  voice,  with  the  other 
musicians  grouped  in  silence  behind,  with  her 
figure  drawn  up  and  her  creamy  drapery  falling 
gracefully  around  her,  with  her  eyes  looking 
darkly  out  from  beneath  her  long  silky  lashes 
and  kindling  and  gleaming  in  harmony  with  her 
passionate  notes  as  she  sang ; and  as  Prince 
Hugo  listened,  with  intense,  unfathomable  ex- 
pression on  his  fine,  earnest  face,  and  with  gaze 
sometimes  fixed  upon  the  ground  at  his  feet, 
sometimes  raised  as  if  with  spontaneous  and 
irresistible  eagerness  to  meet  and  mingle  in 
rapt  appreciation  and  sympathy  with  hers. 

John  had  slipped  back  to  the  left  side  of  the 
dais,  and  was  standing  close  beneath  it  beyond 
the  shadow  of  a curtain  that  fell  behind  a piece 
of  statuary  just  there,  and  so  she  did  not  see 


THE  PRINCE  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 


125 


hitn  all  this  time,  and  he  could  observe  at  will. 
Evidently  the  Prince  had  forgotten  or  had  pur- 
posely failed  to  mention  his  presence  to  Zare,  so 
she  was  quite  unaware  that, — as  she  sang  to 
that  new  and  mostly  unknown  audience,  as  she 
enjoyed  with  Alexander-like  insatiability  for 
new  subjugation,  the  conquest  of  this  assemblage 
now, — she  was  quite  unaware  that  a pilgrim  from 
out  her  own  more  familiar  world,  from  former 
scenes  and  suggesting  former  ties  and  interests, 
had  already  wandered  to  this  bright  little  new 
kingdom  of  hers. 

So  John  could  watch,  and  wonder,  and  rumi- 
nate at  his  ease  unseen. 

The  music  at  length  over,  the  curtains  at  the 
far  end  of  the  music  salle  were  thrown  back,  and 
the  drawing-room,  softly  illuminated  now  with 
stars  of  glistening  wax-lights,  was  open  to  view. 
The  audience  had  permission  that  night  to  pass 
out  this  wav, — to  walk  on  to  the  terrace,  where 
Mont  Blanc  stood  revealed  luminous  and  radiant 


123 


PRINCE  HUGO. 


in  the  glorious  moonlight,  and  where  they  might 
saunter  and  watch  the  clouds  roll  majestically 
over  the  mountains,  and  the  silver-tipped  waves 
of  the  blue  lake  break  upon  the  shore  below. 

The  Prince  was  exclusive  and  fastidious  in 
that  circle  of  friends  who  closely  surrounded 
himself.  They  were  few  and  chosen,  but  beyond 
these — so  long  as  he  was  undisturbed  by  them 
— he  liked  to  feel  the  moving  and  living  crowd, 
to  catch  the  echoes  of  murmuring  voices,  the 
ring  of  laughter,  the  frou-frou  of  dresses,  and 
tread  of  many  feet ; and  so  the  audience  might 
pass  out  and  admire  his  drawing-room,  and  pro- 
menade his  terrace,  while  he  walked  slowly 
among  the  front  circle  of  his  guests  for  a 
moment,  saying  a courteous  word  to  one  or  two, 
and  then — with  Mrs.  Redmond  on  his  arm  now, 
and  M.  Yiardet  at  his  invitation  following  with 
Zare  just  close  behind — he  turned  with  a nod  and’ 
sign  to  Scarlati  and  Rochsdorf,  and  passed  by 
his  private  doorway  from  the  concert-room. 


THE  PRINCE  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 


127 


Baron  von  Rochsdorf  and  Signor  Scarlati  liad 
evidently  already  their  orders,  in  obedience  to 
which  there  was  imparted  by  them  to  several 
chosen  guests  a courteous  invitation  to  join  the 
Prince,  when  it  might  please  them,  on  the 
western  terrace  and  in  his  private  supper-room. 

M.  and  Madame  B , from  the  Glion  Chalet, 

were  among  these,  and  M.  R , the  great 

painter  of  the  Matterhorn.  But  neither  Lady 
Selina  Sudleigh  nor  her  prim-looking  parent 
was  included,  nor  yet  the  ‘ smart  ’ young  man 
from  town.  But  John  was  summoned  from  his 
retired  corner,  and  DeVigne  was  touched  lightly 
on  the  shoulder,  and  also  Signor  Scavelli,  who  had 
distilled  such  divine  sounds  half  an  hour  before 
from  his  violin  and  who  was  now  incasing  it 
tenderly  before  departure — an  unassuming  little 
man  of  transcendent  genius, — such  a one  as 
•Prince  Hugo  delighted  to  honour!  One  after 
another  these  disappeared  through  the  side  door 
at  the  Baron’s  indication,  leaving  many  other 


123 


PRINCE  HUGO. 


persons  of  larger  self-esteem  and  more  certain 
expectations,  to  find  tlieir  own  way  home  to 
supper  at  their  respective  hotels,  when  it  suited 
them,  or  when  hunger  prompted  the  step.  John, 
roused  from  his  abstraction,  followed  the  Prince’s 
party,  and  found  himself  once  more  in  a new 
Eldoradian  scene.  Passing  from  out  the  villa  at 
the  western  side,  and  accompanying  Scarlati, 
who  cordially  took  him  by  the  arm,  he  stepped 
on  to  a piece  of  elevated  terrace  from  which  the 
moonlit  view  was  resplendent ; from  where  the 
enchanted  gaze  could  wander  over  the  mystic 
dreamlands  of  the  far  mountains,  and  revel  in 
the  silvery  sheen  of  the  everlasting  snows;  where 
the  deep  stillness  of  the  lake  and  the  hush  of 
the  falling  night  seemed  to  soothe,  while  the  soft 
fragrance  of  the  air  seemed  to  freshen  the  spirit ; 
and  where  no  disturbing  sound  could  come,  only 
all  the  soft  music  of  the  summer’s  night,  the 
chirp  of  the  grasshopper,  the  distant  murmur  of 
many  waters,  and  “ the  floating  whisper  of  the 


THE  PRINCE  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 


128 


hills,”  which  Byron  heard  and  has  echoed,  over 
and  over  again,  in  many  sweet  mystic  words, 
when, 

“ The  starlight  dews, 

All  silently  their  tears  of  love  instil, 

Weeping  themselves  away.” 

An  acacia-grove  grew  along  one  side  this  terrace, 
and  a border  of  flowers  along  the  other.  Car- 
nations, and  late  clustering  roses,  flowering 
jessamine,  and  heliotrope,  sent  forth  their  rich, 
sweet  essence  into  the  still  night  air,  and  this 
was  soon  mingling  with  fragrant  odours  of 
cigarette  smoke  curling  from  the  thin  lips  of  the 
Russian  Princess,  and  from  a bright  star  in  the 
hand  or  between  the  lips  of  nearly  every  man  of 
whatsoever  nation  in  the  party.  At  the  further 
end  of  this  bit  of  terrace  appeared  a flood 
of  soft  light — streaming  out  into  the  darkness 
from  the  open  door  of  a little  summer  house. 
Towards  this  point  Scarlati  led  John,  talking  all 
the  while  continuously  to  him,  and  explaining 
the  identity  of  each  distinguished  personage  to 


VOL.  II. 


IC 


130 


PRINCE  HUGO. 


whom  he  bowed  respectfully  as  he  passed  them, 
or  to  whom  he  simply  accorded  a familiar  nod. 
The  party  were  sauntering  up  and  down  slowly 
in  the  lovely  moonlight,  inhaling  the  soft  summer 
air  of  the  mountains,  talking  in  a pleasant  sotto 
voce  murmur  suitable  to  the  dreamy  scene,  and 
awaiting  his  Highness’s  invitation  to  pass  into 
the  illuminated  little  octagon-shaped  arbour 
for  supper.  But  he  had  turned  again  as  he 
approached  the  house  to  pace  the  terrace 
once  more,  Mrs.  Redmond,  the  bright  little 
American  lady,  (clad  in  that  most  resplendent  of 
Worth’s  costumes,)  still  leaning  easily  upon  his 
arm,  proud  of  her  position,  and  conscious  of 
its  conspicuous  dignity,  but  taking  it  with  that 
happy  coolness  and  complacency  of  mien  that 
characterises  the  brilliant  Worth-clad  ladies  of 
her  nation,  at  all  times  and  under  every  variety 
of  circumstances,  to  which  their  nomadic  lives  in 
Europe  may  consign  them. 

Apparently,  Mrs.  Redmond  could  make  her- 


TILE  PRINCE  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 


131 


self  very  pleasant  to  the  Prince,  and  he  listened 
to  her,  amused  and  interested  evidently,  by  her 
ceaseless  ripple,  as  he  led  her  up  and  down 
the  terrace  promenade,  closely  followed  by  her 
protegee,  Zare  La-Gonidet,  leaning  still  upon  the 
arm  of  M.  Viardet  the  great  pianist. 

Twice  they  had  passed  slowly  along  the 
terrace,  while  John  had  stood  back  behind  the 
shelter  of  a huge  vase  that  held  a towering 
geranium  in  full  bloom.  Twice  he  had  stepped 
back  unobserved,  and  then  had  watched  them,  as 
the  Prince  stepped  slowly  past  him,  and  as  Zare’s 
long  skirt  swept  the  ground  near  his  feet. 

It  was  not  till  they  were  returning  the  second 
time,  and  coming  towards  the  summer  house, 
that  John  roused  himself.  All  this  time  he  had 
heard  little  of  Scarlati’s  rattling  remarks,  so 
absorbed  had  he  been  in  watching  that  expres- 
sive countenance,  and  those  flashing  eyes  of 
Zare’s,  as  she  passed  him  in  the  moonlight,  and 
so  lost  in  meditation  on  her  general  aspect  when 


132 


PRINCE  HUGO. 


she  was  gone.  He  roused  himself,  as  once  more 
they  were  approaching.  The  Prince  was  answer- 
ing, in  his  deep  tones,  some  sally  of  Mrs.  Red- 
mond’s, and  was  laughing  as  he  came  along 
and  as  he  glanced  down  upon  her  bright  face, — 
laughing  in  the  quiet,  low,  quaint  way  he  had 
sometimes,  as  if  amused  within  his  own  mind, 
and  yet  as  if  only  half  awake  to  the  sense  of 
amusement ; as”  if  his  heart  was  not  altogether 
in  the  laugh — as  if  some  other,  some  deeper, 
some  graver  thought  occupied  him  beyond. 

He  was  talking  in  this  rather  absent  way  to 
Mrs.  Redmond  now,  as  if  pleased  with  her,  and 
yet  as  though  thinking,  all  the  while,  of  some- 
thing different  from  her  lively  subject,  and  of 
someone  other  than  herself.  She  knew  that  way 
of  his — it  came  over  him  frequently.  “ I always 
feel  it  of  him,”  Mrs.  Redmond  was  wont  to  say. 
“ I make  myself  as  charming  as  I can  to  him, 
and  I always  think  him  the  most  charming  man 
I know,  as  he  answers  me  in  return  ; but  all  the 


THE  PRINCE  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 


133 


while  I feel  he  does  not  care  a brass  farthing 
about  me — and  it  is  odd  if  he  is  hearing  a word 
I say ; only  he  has  such  a clever  polite  way  with 
him,  you  know,  he  never  lets  you,  for  certain, 
find  that  out/’ 

There  was  that  curiously  absent  and  rather 
weary  expression  on  his  face  now,  at  the 
moment  when  John  came  forward  from  his 
retreat  behind  the  geranium  vase,  and  met  his 
glance  full  and  fair  in  the  lustrous  moonlight. 

The  Prince  slightly  started,  and  he  dropped 
his  eyes  for  an  instant,  as  he  encountered 
John’s,  as  if  he  would  veil  a thought  he  felt 
might  be  read  there ; apparently,  he  had  almost 
forgotten  John.  His  sudden  presence  before 
him  aroused  some  curious  and,  perhaps,  not 
altogether  agreeable  thoughts.  He  paused,  and 
John  stood  aside  to  let  him  pass  on,  if  he 
wished  it,  without  further  notice  than  a sign 
in  response  to  his  bow;  but  the  Prince  still 
paused. 


134 


PRINCE  HUGO. 


“ All ! ” lie  said,  and  then  hesitated  again. 
“ My  dear  Frere,  where  have  you  hidden  your- 
self? Here  you  are.  Have  you  greeted  yet  ? ” 
he  continued,  turning  round  to  look  for  the  two 
moving  slowly  behind  him.  “ Have  you  greeted 
your  charming  friend  Mademoiselle  Zare  ? ” 

“Monsieur  Jean  !”  she  was  there  now,  close 
beside  the  Prince,  her  hand  withdrawing  itself 
rapidly  from  M.  Viardet’s  arm.  “ Monsieur  Jean, 
to  think  of  you  here,  out  on  the  terrace  in  the 
moonlight,  and  never  coming  to  say  bon  jour  to 
me?” 

Her  hand  was  laid  in  his  as  she  spoke,  and  he 
held  it  a moment  as  his  kind  eyes  rested  upon 
her  face. 

“ I saw  you,  Zare,  and  I have  been  enjoying 
all  your  triumphs.  I have  been  watching  for 
the  moment  when  you  might  have  leisure  to  see 
me.” 

She  laughed — that  soft  rippling  laugh  of  hers 
— and  she  shook  the  hand  that  held  hers  indig- 


THE  PRINCE  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 


135 


nantly  for  an  instant,  and  then  pressed  it  again, 
nestling  her  own  still  further  into  its  clasp. 

“ How  could  you  be  so  silly,  Monsieur  Jean? 
Did  I not  tell  you,  your  Highness,  that  he  would 
come  ? ” she  continued,  turning  her  great  dark 
glistening  eyes  in  the  lustrous  moonlight,  up  to- 
wards the  Prince’s  face.  “ Did  I not  tell  you  ? 
but  I did  not  expect  he  would  steal  upon  us  in 
this  sort  of  unexpected  way.  What  a shame, 
Monsieur  Jean,  to  be  listening  there  to  my  sing- 
ing, when  I did  not  know.” 

“ I captured  him,”  said  the  Prince,  after  an 
instant’s  silence,  in  which  he  had  been  answer- 
ing back  from  his  deep  eyes,  that  frank  bright 
gaze  of  hers,  into  his  face.  “ I captured  him  in 
the  act  of  running  away  from  Yevey  pier  to-day, 
and  brought  him  here,  an  unwilling  prisoner,  to 
La  Joie.” 

“ Not  unwilling,  your  Highness,  only  diffi- 
dent,” said  John.  “ La  Joie,  beautiful  La  Joie, 
who  could  enter  its  flowery  portals  unwillingly?” 


130 


PRINCE  HUGO. 


“Well,  I hope  you  will  then  willingly  re- 
main,” said  the  Prince,  kindly.  “ Come,  Madame 
Redmond,  you  must  be  longing  for  some  little 
refreshment,  and  I keep  you  ruthlessly  out  in 
the  cold  and  hungry  moonlight  here.  Frere, 
will  you  accompany  us  ? ” 

When  Zare  had  dropped  M.  Viardet’s  arm,  that 
gentleman,  seeing  that  an  encounter  of  friends 
had  taken  place,  and  realizing  his  turn  as  escort 
of  the  lovely  Diva  to  be  over  for  the  moment, 
had  dropped  back  a little,  and  had  taken  John’s 
place  in  Scarlati’s  cheerful  society ; so,  at  these 
words  from  the  Prince,  John  and  Zare  turned 
together  now,  and  she  put  her  hand,  with  a 
pleased  and  eager  gesture,  within  his  arm. 

“ I am  so  glad,”  she  whispered, — “ so  glad  to 
see  you,  Monsieur  Jean.” 

“Are  you?  I am  enchanted  to  hear  it,”  he 
replied.  “ And,  Zare,  I am  glad,”  he  continued, 
“ to  see  you.  Looking  so  well,  too,  developed 
into  such  distinction,  my  dear  little  friend  of 


THE  PRINCE  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 


137 


the  Boulevard  Madeleine,  developed  beyond 
the  fondest  dreams  of  your  most  enthusiastic 
friends.” 

“ I am  very  happy,”  said  Zare,  in  a low  tone. 
■“  I do  so  enjoy  it,  Monsieur  Jean, — coming  to 
sing,  you  know,  at  these  lovely  concerts,  on 
this  mountain  paradise  here,  and  now  it  will  be 
doubly  delightful  that  you  have  come.  His 
Highness  is  very  fond  of  you,  Monsieur 
Jean.” 

“ His  Highness  has  always  been  very  good  to 
me,”  said  John,  gravely.  “ Where  did  you 
meet  him,  Zare  ? ” 

She  laughed — an  intensely  sweet  laugh — as 
if  the  memory,  roused  by  his  question,  was  a 
pleasant  one. 

“ Oh,  it  was  so  funny — it  was  down  there, 
you  know,  by  the  lake  side.  I was  on  a pony, 
and  I could  not  make  it  go — one  of  these  little 
rough  ponies  we  get  at  the  hotel  at  Vevey,  to 
take  us  up  the  hills ; and  mine  was  so  wild  and 


138 


PRINCE  HUGO. 


obstinate,  and  Mrs.  Redmond’s  was  such  a good 
one,  and  had  gone  ever  so  far  on  before,  and  I 
was  quite  alone.  Monsieur  Jean,  and — then  I 
met  him.  I was  so  frightened,  and  he  wras  so 
kind.  Is  he  not  always  kind? — Is  he  not 
always,  indeed  % You  know  how  kind.  And  he 
led  my  pony,  and  would  not  let  anyone  touch 
the  bridle,  but  himself,  all  the  way  he  led  it  to' 
Chillon,  which  we  were  going  to  see,  and  I did 
not  know  it  was  he.  I did  not  know  anything,, 
only  I wondered  why  the  other  gentlemen  hung 
back  always,  and  said  so  little,  and  only  looked 
so  oddly  at  me,  and  at  him,  as  he  led  my  little 
pony  so  gravely  along.  I knew  nothing  until 
that  night  when  I sang  in  the  great  hotel  salon, 
at  a concert  for  the  poor  of  Yevey.  He  came  to 
hear  me,  and  then  I knew.  For  I saw  my  bridle 
knight,  who  had  conducted  me  so  courteously  in 
the  afternoon,  seated  there  in  the  very  centre  of 
the  front  row,  with  that  big  bright  star  upon  his 
coat,  and  they  told  me  he  was  Prince  Hugo  of 


THE  PRINCE  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 


13& 


Rodavia.  And  I wondered  when  lie  sat  so  grave, 
and  with  that  kindling  deep  look,  as  I sang  to 
him — I wondered  if  I should  ever  speak  to  him 
again  ; and  then — ah  ! I cannot  tell  you  more 
now,  for  we  are  to  go  into  supper.  But,  Mon- 
sieur Jean,  how  I have  rattled  on  to  you,  just 
as  I used  to,  always,  you  know,  aud  I have  so 
much  more  to  tell  you.  But,  look,  he  is  signing 
to  me  to  come  on.  Ah,  is  it  not  lovely,  Monsieur 
Jean  ? ” 

They  had  paused  as  she  had  been  describing 
to  him  so  vehemently  that  first  quaint  encounter 
of  hers  with  the  Prince,  paused  by  John’s  huge 
geranium  vase,  and  he  was  looking  round  at  her, 
listening,  and  yet  scarcely  listening — so  rapid 
and  absorbing  was  the  rush  of  his  own  suggestive,, 
speculative  thoughts.  As  he  scanned  her  face 
while  she  spoke  to  him,  as  he  strove  to  read  its 
vivid  and  quickly  varying  expressions,  as  he 
gazed  full  into  the  dark  luminous  eyes,  and  as 
his  heart  told  him  that  they  were,  as  ever,  limpid 


140 


PRINCE  HUGO. 


and  transparent  as  they  were  beautiful.  Still 
without  shadow  or  cloud,  and  with  no  veiled 
depths  or  dark  hidden  thoughts  at  all  in  them, 
save  that  depth  of  earnest  genius,  indeed,  and 
those  veiled  fountain-springs  of  wistful  medita- 
tion, of  tender  dreams,  of  undefined  and  un- 
utterable longings,  which  described  the  passionate 
inner  life,  of  her  pure  artist  soul.  Zare  was  his 
proud  hearted  maid  of  the  Sierras  still,  and  the 
old,  warm  coloured  lines  of  the  beloved  sun- 
poet  of  the  student  days  came  back  to  him, 
and  he  murmured  with  a quiet  smile,  and  more 
to  himself  than  to  her  : — 

“ She  boasted  Montezuma’s  blood, 

Was  pure  of  heart  as  Tahoe’s  flood, 

And  strangely  fair  and  princely  souled.” 

“ Oh,  Monsieur  Jean,  fancy  thinking  of  that 
here,  in  the  moonlight,  on  this  terrace  of  La 
Joie,  and  you  used  to  say  the  lines  to  me  in 
Paris.  How  little  we  ever  thought  of  being 
together  here,  is  it  not  lovely  ? ” she  continued 


THE  PRINCE  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 


141 


as  he  turned  to  lead  her  down  the  promenade 
towards  the  summer-house.  “ Look  how  that 
glorious  mountain  is  sleeping  far  away  there  in 
the  moonlight  like  a great  monarch  at  rest,  is  it 
not  beautiful?  Look,  Monsieur  Jean,  what  a 
silver  smile  that  is,  dimpling  the  blue  waters, 
what  a sweet,  pure  air ; is  not  life  delicious,  is 
this  villa  not  really  La  Joie  ? ” 

“It  is  very  charming,”  John  answered. 

“ Yes ; and  he  is  so  good.  Oh,  how  you 
must  have  always  loved  him.  You  know  you 
once  did  tell  me  of  him.  I remember  it  now 
quite  well ; it  was  one  summer  time  in  Paris, 
nearly  the  very  last  summer,  too  ; you  had  been 
to  Germany,  and  you  talked  so  much  of  Prince 
Hugo  when  you  came  back.  Ah,  I did  not 
think  then  I should  one  day  come  to  know  him, 
did  I now,  Monsieur  Jean  ? ” 

They  had  reached  the  end  of  the  terrace, 
where  stood  the  octagon  arbour. 

Such  a pretty  little  dainty  supper-room  it  was ! 


142 


PRINCE  HUGO. 


fitted  with  a round  table  and  with  seats  for  just 
exactly  their  number.  Lit  by  a coloured  globe 
lamp  which,  hanging  midway  from  the  ceiling, 
shed  a soft  lustre  upon  glittering  plate,  on  por- 
celain of  delicate  rose  du  B cirri,  on  gleaming 
Venetian  glass,  on  piles  of  rich-hued  fruit,  and 
on  vases  of  clustering  flowers.  A line  of  servants 
stood  waiting  at  the  further  side  from  which 
opened  the  back  entrance  to  the  domestic  de- 
partment, and  from  whence  they  brought  and 
carried  round  to  the  guests  successions  of  small, 
etherial  plats  suited  to  the  scene,  the  hour, 
and  to  the  delicate  appetites  of  midnight,  all 
pleasantly  sharpened  as  they  were  by  several 
hours  of  music  since  an  early  table  d'hote,  and 
freshened  by  the  pure,  keen  air  of  the  Alpine 
terrace.  There  were  not  many  pi  cits,  and  none 
were  luxurious  enough  to  recall  the  round  table 
suppers  of  the  Regency,  but  just  sufficient, 
appropriate,  and,  as  far  as  they  soared  in  the 
aesthetics  of  gastronomy,  thoroughly  well  done. 


THE  PRINCE  AND  IIIS  FRIENDS. 


143 


The  Prince  kept  Mrs.  Redmond  as  before  at 
his  right  side,  and  by  a deft  arrangement  and  a 
slight  wave  of  his  hand,  he  somehow  settled  the 
others  of  the  party  in  such  a way  before  he  sat 
down,  that  John  found  himself  drawing  back  a 
chair  to  enable  Zare  to  enter  just  at  the  left  hand 
of  Prince  Hugo,  and  bringing  himself  as  her 
escort  to  the  place  next  to  her,  and  within 
hearing  of  all  that  she  and  the  Prince  might  say. 

Zare  arranged  herself  with  a majestic  sweep  of 
her  skirt  into  her  destined  seat  with  much  com- 
posure, and  a happy  and  unconscious  ease,  and 
John  laughed  to  himself  once  again,  as  he  noted 
this  enviable  Bohemian  attribute  by  which  she 
was  ready  to  be  composed  and  at  her  ease  with 
prince  or  peasant,  English  or  German  alike,  so 
long  as  they  were  kind  to  her  and  sympatJiique, 
as  she  would  have  expressed  it,  pleasing  her,  and 
ready  to  be  pleased. 

She  had  slipped  even  beyond  the  fixed  rules  of 
etiquette , and  had  sat  down  unthinking,  and  was 


144 


PRINCE  HUGO. 


unfolding  lier  snowy  serviette,  and  unbuttoning 
her  gloves,  and  glancing  brightly  around;  while 
the  Prince  still  stood  upright  beside  her  and 
paused,  glancing  down,  ere  he  seated  himself, 
upon  her  dark,  shapely  head.  He  bent  low  at 
length,  almost  touching  her  soft  white  shoulder 
with  his  own  as  he  took  his  place,  and  John 
looking  across  at  him  above  the  glistening  jewels 
in  Zare’s  dark  coils  of  hair,  caught  a curious 
fleeting  and  instantly  controlled  expression  in  his 
deep  proud  eyes.  A wave  of  colour,  too,  swept 
over  his  broad  forehead,  and  as  quickly  faded 
away.  He  bit  his  lip,  and  then  an  intensely 
grave  look  came  into  his  face.  It  was  turned 
towards  Zare,  and  his  eyes  were  meeting  the 
brilliant  light  of  hers  straight,  an'd  close,  and  full, 
and  John  could  see  that  the  strongly  controlled 
countenance  quivered  in  every  feature  and  every 
nerve,  as  her  glance  danced  and  played  over  his 
face  for  a moment,  and  then  sank  beneath  the 
searching  and  dominating  power  of  his. 


THE  PRINCE  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 


145 


As  she  withdrew  her  hand  from  her  long 
glove,  her  eyes  thus  sank,  but  it  was  only  for  a 
moment ; then  they  were  raised  at  once  and 
fearlessly  again,  and  they  answered  back  the 
Prince  with  a glance  full  of  gladness  and  of 
sweet  playful  light,  as  if  it  were  pleasant  to  her 
to  meet  and  return  thus, — and  to  brighten  too,  as 
with  the  sunny  irresistible  reflection  of  her  own 
glance, — the  grave,  keen  gaze  of  these  steel-blue 
eyes. 

He,  too,  unfolded  his  serviette,  and  in  a 
moment  the  little  supper  began. 

There  was  a perfect  regiment  of  Venetian 
glass  between  Zare  and  the  Prince,  and  as  she 
put  down  her  gloves  and  fan  and  little  lace 
handkerchief  ambng  them,  Hugo  suggested, 
smilingly,  that  there  was  more  than  a sufficient 
supply.  He  took  up  one  by  one,  several  tall 
spiral  stemmed  glasses  intended  for  varieties  of 
Chablis,  or  Yvorne,  or  other  mountain-made 
beverages  such  as  he  loved,  and  he  pushed  them 


VOL.  IT. 


L 


146 


PRINCE  HUGO. 


aside  a little,  and  made  more  room  for  her  pos- 
sessions. As  he  did  so,  and  as  he  spoke  in  a 
low  voice  to  her,  his  lip  curled  with  a curious 
and  rather  sad  smile,  and  then  that  kindling 
look  came  into  his  eyes  again  ; and  his  hand,  as 
it  moved  among  the  tall  glasses  on  the  table 
between  them,  seemed  accidentally  for  a moment 
to  touch  hers.  He  was  about  to  take  up  her 
fan  and  gloves,  and  to  put  them  further  upon 
the  table  into  safetv,  and  instead, — as  if  uncon- 
sciously, — his  hand  paused  near  hers.  It  rested 
close  and  in  contact  for  one  instant,  while  again 
that  wave  of  warm  colour  rushed  over  his  brow  ; 
then  he  drew  himself  together  quickly  and 
turned  away. 

She  had  coloured  also  now,  a deep  flush 
mantling  for  a moment  the  soft . down  of  her 
dusky  southern  cheek,  and  her  eyes  sank  again, 
the  long  dark  lashes  drooping  and  deeply  veiling 
them ; while  beneath  was  a curious  kindling 
gleam  that  was  new  to  her,  and  a soft  suffusion 


THE  PRINCE  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 


147 


•of  some  unfathomable  feeling  which  seemed  to 
ebb  unbidden  to  their  quivering  lids.  She,  too, 
gathered  herself  together,  however,  immediately ; 
and,  while  Prince  Hugo  turned  away,  to  break 
the  charm  of  that  moment’s  silence  by  address- 
ing some  light  courteous  remark  to  Mrs.  Red- 
mond, Zare  looked  up  and  shook  her  head  back 
with  a curious  graceful  movement,  as  if  impatient 
and  perhaps  annoyed  with  herself ; and  she  put 
up  her  fingers  and  passed  them  across  her  eyes 
for  a second,  as  if  the  light  dazzled  her,  and 
then  she  turned  and  whispered  suddenly  to 
John — 

“Have  you  heard  from  anyone  the  last  day 
or  two?  Is  your  news  later  than  mine,  I 
wonder?  Have  you  heard  from  Miriam  since 
they  left  Spaalbad  ? ” 

“No;  and  I was  not  even  aware  that  they 
had  left,”  said  John. 

“ A.h ! then  I am  much  before  you  in  news, 
and  I have  pleasant  tidings  to  give.  You  do 


148 


PRINCE  HUGO. 


not  know  that  they  are  coming  to  the  Trois 
Couronnes  to-morrow? — the  Trois  Couronnes 
here  at  Vevey,  I mean.” 

“ No — really — to-morrow  ? ” 

“ To-morrow ; and  here  to  the  Trois  Cou- 
ronnes, where  I am  with  Mrs.  Redmond,  you 
know.” 

“ Ah ! that  is  delightful.  By  my  last  news 
they  had  made  no  decided  plan.  I found  a 
letter  with  yours  at  the  poste  restante,  Geneva, 
but  it  had  lain  there  some  days,  no  doubt,  and 
the  news  was  old.” 

“They  are  coming,”  she  said,  and  then  she 
paused,  and  her  lips  parted  as  if  she  would  have 
said  more.  And  there  was  one  for  whom  John 
longed  to  ask  her,  and  a name  he  was  eager  to 
hear  her  speak  : a name  that  it  made  him  angry 
within  himself  to  feel  it  was  perhaps  difficult  to 
utter — even  inappropriate,  indeed — as  they  sat 
here  at  Prince  Hugo’s  supper-table ; and  as  Zare, 
with  these  great  eyes  of  hers,  glistening  with 


THE  PRINCE  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 


149 


such  a wealth  of  happiness,  bright  with  such 
undefinable  new  gleams  of  life  and  delight,  was 
sitting  between  him  and  Prince  Hugo, — her 
hand  and  beautiful  soft  arm  still  resting  on  the 
white  damask  amidst  the  gleaming  Venetian 
glass. 

And  the  name  was  still  unspoken  when  at 
length,  the  supper  over  and  the  summer’s  night 
well  on  its  way,  the  party  reluctantly  broke  up. 
When  the  moment  came  for  the  Prince  to  say 
“ An  revoir  ” in  his  genial  courtly  voice  to  each 
one  as  they  bowed  or  returned  his  cordial  hand’s 
clasp  at  the  terrace  gate;  and  as  Mrs.  Redmond, 
with  Zare  carefully  gathered  under  her  wing, 
said  her  frank  “ Good  * night,”  and  echoed 
warmly  the  Prince’s  hope  that  they  might  meet 
on  the  morrow. 

They  were  gone ; and  it  seemed  to  John  like 
a strange,  beautiful,  bewildering  dream — the 
supper-table,  and  Zare’s  bright  presence  there, 
with  her  dark  gleaming  eyes,  so  wondrous  and 


150 


PRINCE  HUGO. 


so  full  of  life,  so  constantly  turned  to  meet  Lis 
own;  and  that  hour  they  had  sat  side  by  side 
there  and  talked  of  many  things,  while  always 
that  one  subject  remained  unnoticed  still. 

She  was  gone ; the  supper  was  past  and  over, 
and  not  once  during  its  course  or  conversation 
had  he  had  courage  to  mention  to  her,  or  she, 
chosen  to  whisper  to  him,  the  name  which  must 
all  the  while  have  been  quivering  on  her  lips  as 
it  hung  on  his : the  name  her  every  glance,  her 
every  word,  her  every  smile,  recalled  to  him — of 
his  distant  sailor-cousin,  Roderick  Ray. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 


DOES  HE  NOT  KNOW  ? 

Miriam  was  coming  to-morrow, — so  Zare  had 
said, — and  it  was  one  of  the  first  thoughts  that 
occurred  to  John,  who,  (while  the  dew  was  still 
glistening  in  a silvery  frost  on  the  flowers  and 
soft  verdure  of  Prince  Hugo’s  lawn,)  came  down- 
stairs, and  passed  out  through  the  drawing- 
room, and  stood  once  more  on  the  terrace  in- 
haling the  fresh  invigorating  morning  air. 

Miriam  was  coming ! The  little  puffing 
steamboat  that  would  come  sweeping  up  the 
lake  to  the  Vevey  pier,  at  three  o’clock,  would 
probably  bring  the  whole  Debugines’  party  from 
Lausanne,  where  they  had  slept  last  night, — so 
Zare  had  surmised, — at  the  end  of  their  long 
railway  journey  from  Berne  by  Neuchatel. 


152 


PRINCE  HUGO. 


“ At  all  events,  I will  go  down  and  meet 
the  afternoon  boat,”  thought  John,  “and  take 
the  chance  of  finding  them,  and  I will  call  in 
for  Zare  and  Mrs.  Redmond  on  the  way  too, 
and  persuade  them  to  come  down  with  me  to 
the  pier ; that  is  to  say,  if  the  Prince  has  no 
other  plan  for  me  for  the  day.” 

The  Prince  had  none.  He  appeared  on  the 
terrace  an  hour  or  two  later,  just  in  time  for  the 
second  d'ejeuner , having  had  his  coffee  in  his 
own  apartments,  previous  to  a matutinal  walk 
at  a very  early  hour.  He  appeared  about  eleven 
o’clock,  and  at  the  same  time,  De  Vigne, 
Scarlati,  and  the  Baron  von  Roclisdorf  assembled 
from  different  directions.  They  had  their  plea- 
sant sociable  repast,  combining  luncheon  and 
breakfast,  in  a pretty  morning  room,  with  a 
broad  verandah  leading  to  a small  bright  flower 
garden  at  the  east  side  of  the  house ; whence, 
not  the  wide  open  view  of  the  whole  lake  and 
mountain  ranges  was  visible,  as  from  the 


DOES  HE  NOT  KNOW? 


153 


drawing-room  and  terrace,  but  a pretty  little 
•vista,  a bewitching  bit  of  scenery  stretching  away 
between  the  opening  of  the  drooping  acacia  and 
chestnut  trees — a view  towards  Chillon  and 
Montreux,  along  the  northern  banks  of  the  blue 
lake,  where  the  slopes,  which  up  to  this  point 
were  smiling  and  verdant,  broke  into  rough 
precipices,  with  steep  dark  woods  clustering  in 
the  rocky  crevices,  and  overhanging  the  road, 
which  here  curved  and  wound  along  the  bays 
and  broken  lines  of  the  shore. 

After  breakfast.  Prince  Hugo  idled  away  a 
sunny  hour.  He  had  already  spent  a busy 
morning  with  Rochsdorf  over  his  correspondence, 
and  in  consideration  of  those  inevitable  despatches 
that  reached  him  daily  from  Rodenstadt.  And 
after  breakfast,  at  this  hottest  hour  of  the  day, 
he  liked  to  sit  under  the  cool  shadow  of  the 
western  verandah,  to  smoke  his  cigar,  to  con- 
verse with  De  Vigne,  and  to  listen  to  Scarlati 
either  chattering  incessantly,  or  singing  his  little 


154 


FRINGE  HUGO. 


soft  Italian  pifferari,  patriotic,  or  fisher  songs 
in  the  room  behind.  ' Scarlati  was  the  hammer- 
virtuoso,  as  well  as  the  pleasant  and  often-chosen 
companion  of  Prince  Hugo’s  days  of  rustic 
retreat. 

This  morning  the  Prince  talked  much  to  John,, 
telling  him  the  incidental  histories  of  many 
different  members  of  his  Rudetzburg  circles,, 
whom  John  recollected  from  his  sojourn  there ; 
and  asking  him,  with  frank  and  kindly  interest, 
questions  about  himself  and  his  professional 
successes,  and  his  future  plans ; not  saying  one 
word,  however,  of  last  night — of  Zare  or  her 
singing,  or  of  any  present  or  immediate  phase 
of  affairs. 

It  was  pleasant  sitting  there  in  quiet  and 
coolness  and  shadow,  through  this  hot  mid-day  ; 
and  John  felt  that  the  surrounding  brightness 
of  scene  and  air,  and  of  summer  scents,  and 
sweet  summer  sounds,  and  of  pleasant  com- 
panionship and  sympathetic  exchange  of  thought. 


DOES  HE  NOT  KNOW? 


155 


was  altogether  delicious  and  invigorating,  making 
La  Joie  seem  a holiday  retreat  unparalleled  in  its 
completeness  and  perfection  of  refreshment  and 
repose. 

The  sound  of  the  church  bell  in  the  village 
chiming  two  o’clock,  roused  him  at  length, 
however,  to  the  recollection  of  his  scheme  for  the 
afternoon. 

“ Has  your  Highness  any  plan  for  to-day,  that 
would  be  disturbed  by  my  leaving  you  for  an. 
hour  or  two  ? ” he  asked. 

“ Most  certainly  none,”  said  Prince  Hugo. 
“ This  is  a hall  of  liberty,  I hope,  for  my  guests 
and  friends.  Where  would  you  go,  Frere  ? ” 

“ I was  proposing  to  myself  an  expedition  to 
the  Trois  Couronnes.” 

“ Ah  ! ” The  Prince  said  nothing  further  for 
a minute  then.  “ You  will  find  it  still  a hot 
walk,”  he  added.  “ Shall  I order  the  fourgon 
and  send  you  down  ? ” 

“ No,  many  thanks.  I need  not  trouble  you 


15C 


PRINCE  HUGO. 


to  that  extent,  I think  I can  scramble  down 
the  bank  under  the  chestnuts,  pretty  much  in 
shade  nearly  the  whole  way,  and  then  I can 
make  a short  cut  between  the  vineyards,  can  I 
not?  ” 

“ Yes,  yes,”  said  De  Yigne,  “ keep  to  the 
right  between  Bulo’s  and  Cavan’s  vines,  and  go 
straight  down.  If  anybody  calls  to  you,  say  you 
come  from  the  Villa,  and  they  will  let  you 
pass.” 

“They  are  very  particular  about  trespassers 
through  their  vineyards,  as  a rule,”  said  the 
Prince.  “ But  all  the  good  fellows  about  here 
know  me  now,  and  give  right  of  way  to  myself 
and  to  my  friends.  Are  you  going  to  call  upon 
Mrs.  Redmond,  die  schone  Amerikanerin  ? ” 

“ Yes,  I think  I ought  to  pay  my  respects 
if  your  Highness  has  no  other  plan  forme,”  said 
John. 

“ None  whatever ; I shall  drive  down,  when 
it  is  a little  cooler,  somewhere  in  that  way  also. 


A 


DOES  HE  NOT  KNOW? 


157 


I daresay ; and  if  I find  you  I may  bring  you 
home.  So,  will  that  do  ? ” 

“Perfectly.  You  are  very  good.  I shall  be 
charmed  to  drive  up  with  you,  and  will  look  out 
for  you  in  the  town.” 

“Very  well,  then.  Give  the  schone  Ameri- 
hanerin  salutations  from  me.  She  is  adorable,  is 
she  not  ? I wish  Spielhagen  had  known  her ; 
she  would  be  a delicious  study  for  him.  Tell 
her  how  much  I hope  she  is  not  fatigued,  and 
did  not  take  cold  last  night.  Ah ! we  are  to 
have  no  music  this  evening ; I dine  with  the 
Due  d’Albert  at  the  chateau.  You  and  Scarlati 
will  have  to  amuse  yourselves,  Frere.” 

“ Ah ! that  we  will  do  well,  Serenissimo,” 
exclaimed  Scarlati,  coming  out  through  the 
window  from  the  room,  where  he  had  been 
playing  to  them,  as  the  Prince  spoke,  and  catching 
the  last  words  ; “ I will  take  care  of  Frere.” 

“ Ah  ! so  well.  But  I do  not  go  till  late. 
The  Due  has  adopted  modern  English  hours. 


158 


riUNCE  HUGO. 


I will  have  time  enough  to  drive  you  home, 
Frere,  and  to  take  a turn  with  you  on  the  ter- 
race afterwards  before  dressing.  And  now  do 
not  let  me  keep  you  longer.  You  wish  to  go.” 
And  he  took  his  cigar  from  between  his  lips,  and 
smiled,  while  a curious  scrutinising  expression 
came  into  his  eyes  for  a moment  as  he  surveyed 
John.  “ Au  revoir”  he  said,  kindly,  in  answer 
to  the  latter’s  bow.  “Take  care  of  yourself, 
mon  cher.  There  are  dangerous  places  in  the 
precipitous  banks  down  there.  Do  not  you  slip 
over,  I say — a good  many  have  done  so  already.” 

There  was  a double  entendre,  something  more 
than  the  mere  words  implied,  in  the  Prince’s 
manner  and  voice. 

John  paused  and  answered  the  glance  and 
smile,  raising  his  hat  the  while,  and  hesitating 
before  he  replied  in  speech.  •“  Silence  is  gold,” 
he  thought.  Was  there  anything  that  it  exactly 
behoved  him  to  say  ? 

“ I know  the  path  along  the  precipice  pretty 


DOES  HE  NOT  KNOW? 


159 


•well,  mon  prince”  he  remarked  at  last.  “ I 
have  walked  along  it  in  safety  for  many  a day. 
It  would  be  odd  if  I fell  over  now,  and,  d Vheure 
quit  est,  it  would  be  unfortunate.  I do  not 
think  I will  do  it.” 

“ Tant  mieux,  tant  mieux”  said  the  Prince, 
and  then  he  laughed  a short,  conscious  laugh ; 
and  a flush  came  up  upon  his  cheek.  He  said 
nothing  more,  however,  only  as  John  turned  to 
leave  the  verandah  he  called  after  him,  one  more 
cheerful,  kindly  “ au  revoir.” 

“Does  he  know  of  her  engagement?”  wondered 
John,  as  he  sped  down  the  pathway.  “ Has  no 
one  told  him  anything  of  Roderick  Ray.” 


CHAPTER  IX. 


THE  GENEVA  STEAM-BOAT. 

The  little  gay-looking  steamboat  was  paddling 
up  the  lake  within  a station  of  Vevey,  when 
Zare  and  Mrs.  Redmond,  escorted  by  John, 
arrived  at  the  pier  an  hour  later — they  both 
having  joyfully  assented  to  his  suggestion,  that 
they  should  stroll  down  together  to  see  the  boat 
come  in. 

He  had  found  Mrs.  Redmond  in  the  best  of 
spirits,  only  a little  bored  for  the  moment,  and 
just  longing  for  some  one  to  find  something 
pleasant  for  her  to  do,  and — “ going  down  to 
the  pier,”  was  always  pleasant,  especially  to 
meet  that  afternoon  boat  by  which  some  inter- 
esting people  were  sure  to  appear. 

So  Mrs.  Redmond  made  a smart  toilette 


THE  GENEVA  STEAM-BOAT. 


161 


with  alacrity,  and  was  soon  ready,  and  en- 
chanted to  chaperone,  in  Mr.  John  Frere’s 
company,  her  young  charge  for  an  afternoon 
stroll. 

Zare  was  not  in  such  bright  humour  as  her 
friend.  She  had  looked  ten  times  more  remark- 
able and  interesting,  John  thought,  than  he  had 
ever  in  old  days  realised  her  to  be,  as  he  came 
into  the  little  salon  where  the  two  ladies  were 
idling  away  the  sunny  hours,  together  at  the 
big  Hotel. 

She  had  looked  lovely  in  her  fresh  country 
toilette,  with  her  broad  straw  sun  hat,  and  huge 
bunches  of  wild  flowers ; but,  she  had  looked 
absent,  and  full  of  wayward  and  wandering 
thoughts. 

As  he  talked  to  her,  her  dark  eyes  had 
avoided  his  often  to-day,  and  had  strayed  rest- 
lessly away,  with  a meditative  and  dreamy  gaze 
in  them  as  he  spoke,  evidently  scarcely  hearing 
his  voice ; her  glance  often  went  wandering  over 

M 


VOL.  II. 


162 


PRINCE  HUGO. 


the  view  from  the  salon  window,  over  the  blue 
lake  stretching  towards  Ouchy  and  Geneva,  and 
the  broken  outline  of  the  opposite  shore. 

Once  out,  however,  and  she  brightened  up 
again. 

“ Yes,  Miriam  must  surely  be  coming  to-day,” 
she  said,  and  certainly  by  this  afternoon’s  boat. 
“ It  was  a capital  idea  to  go  down  and  meet  her, 
and,”  she  added  eagerly  to  John,  “ they  had 
succeeded  in  engaging  such  charming  rooms  for 
the  whole  party  at  the  Hotel.  So  Miriam  for 
the  whole  fortnight  of  their  proposed  stay  would 
be  with  her  here.” 

The  little  pier  was  gay  and  crowded  as  when 
John  had  arrived.  All  the  usual  confusion  of 
strange  objects  of  conveyance  for  travellers  and 
luggage,  to  the  large  hotels  by  the  shore,  or  up 
the  mountain  slopes,  were  collected  again.  All 
noisy  and  excited  as  usual,  the  emissaries  of  the 
different  pensions  and  hotels,  ready  to  quarrel 
vociferously  at  the  least  provocation,  and  to 


THE  GENEVA  STEAM-BOAT. 


163 


snatch  any  innocent  or  easily  inveigled  traveller 
out  of  one  another’s  clutches — a daily  battle  for 
patronage  and  employment,  that  went  on  regu- 
larly on  the  piers  all  along  the  Lake  as  each 
boat  steamed  in. 

It  was  fresh  and  delicious  by  the  water  here, 
as  John  and  the  two  ladies  strolled  down  to 
the  pier.  A light  breeze  blew  over  the  lake, 
rippling  up  the  surface  with  tiny  playful  waves, 
breaking  the  long  shadow  lines,  and  distorting 
the  deep  reflections  of  the  mountain  slopes ; 
dashing  up  the  blue  water  in  a frothing  and 
dancing  spray,  against  the  pier  side  and  over 
the  shingly  pebbles  of  the  sunny  shore. 

There  was  a pile  of  boxes  lying  ready  to  be 
shipped  near  the  end  of  the  pier,  and  on  one  of 
these,  Zare  seated  herself,  holding  her  rose-lined 
parasol  close  over  her  face,  and  gazing  out 
through  the  meshes  of  the  tussore  lace  that 
fringed  it — across  the  lake  away  from  John’s 
face  again,  and  from  all  the  noisy  surroundings 


164 


PRINCE  HUGO. 


of  the  crowded  little  wharf.  She  watched  the 
distant  waves  rippling  on  the  blue  water,  or 
fixed  her  gaze  in  an  absent  dreamy  way  upon 
the  brown  lateen  sails  of  a fishing  boat  that  was 
drifting  before  the  soft  breeze,  along  the  lake 
coast,  near  the  further  side,  and  sweeping  in 
towards  St.  Gingolph  Bay.  The  blue  lake  was 
flecked,  indeed,  in  every  direction  with  the  snow- 
white  sails  of  the  little  pleasure  boats,  and  these 
brown  slanted  lateens  of  the  fisherman,  that  re- 
called constantly  the  Mediterranean  sail ; and 
Zare  watched  these  one  after  another  in  silence 
while  John  made  conversation  for  Mrs.  Redmond 
at  her  side. 

“ Why  are  you  so  dumb,  Zare  ? ” said  that 
exhilarating  lady  presently.  “ You  are  staring 
as  if  you  never  saw  a Geneva  fisherman’s  boat 
before.” 

“ Am  I ? ” said  Zare,  smiling  a little,  still 
following  the  movements  of  the  little  boat,  “ am 
I ? I was  not  thinking  about  it,”  she  added, 


THE  GENEVA  STEAM-BOAT. 


165 


suddenly  turning  round  on  Mrs.  Redmond,  and 
looking  from  beneath  her  parasol’s  low  falling 
fringe.” 

“ I did  not  suppose  you  were,”  said  Mrs.  Red- 
mond, laughing,  and  yet  returning  at  the  same 
moment  Zare’s  bright  glance,  by  a shrewd  keen 
gaze  straight  into  her  eyes.  “I  did  not  suppose 
you  were,  but  your  thoughts  seemed  to  be 
pretty  pleasant  anyway,  to  judge  from  your 
cheerful  air.  Hah  ! are  they  too  good  for  com- 
munication to  Mr.  Frere  and  me  % ” 

“I  was  wondering,”  said  Zare,  suddenly 
turning  her  eyes  upon  the  approaching  steamer, 
“I  was  wondering  whether  Miriam  Ray  will 
really  come  in  that  little  puffing  boat  there. 
How  curious,  Monsieur  Jean,  that  after  all  we 
should  have  all  met  here  ! ” 

“ Very  odd,”  he  answered.  “ It  was  more 
than  I expected  that  we  should  hit  it  off  so  well. 
Hah ! I declare,  I do  believe  they  are  there.” 
The  little  steamer  was  approaching  now  very 


166 


PRINCE  HUGO. 


close,  letting  off  the  puffing  steam,  slackening 
its  pace,  and  sweeping  slowly  up  towards  the 
pier;  and  the  porters,  and  coachmen,  and  valets 
de place,  and  beggars,  cretins,  goitres  and  able- 
bodied  as  well,  were  crowding  and  hustling  each 
other  to  get  near. 

“They  are  there,”  exclaimed  Zare. 

“ Yes,  surely  that  is  my  Aunt  Debugines 
secluded  behind  that  blue  veil,”  exclaimed  John. 
“ There,  sitting  on  the  upper  deck.  Yes,  that  is 
certainly  she.  By  Jove,  what  a swarm  of 
tourists,  where  are  they  all  to  be  put  up  1 — but 
where  is  Miriam  P ” 

“ There  she  is,”  cried  Zare,  as  the  boat  swept 
round  towards  them,  seemed  to  dip  for  a 
moment  forward  like  a great  floating  bird,  and 
then  turned  broadside  towards  the  pier  end,  and 
crept  slowly  up  to  it  at  their  very  feet. 

“ There  is  Miriam,”  and  she  pointed  towards 
the  end  of  the  vessel  furthest  away.  “Yes, 
there  is  Miriam.” 


T1IE  GENEVA  STEAM-BOAT. 


1G7 


And  there  she  was,  standing  up  near  the 
wheel,  gazing  back  over  the  white  foaming 
tracts  of  the  paddles,  and  from  side  to  side  of 
the  lovely  lake  and  mountain  view,  and  now, 
upwards  towards  the  pier,  indeed,  as  she  de- 
tected them  all  upon  it,  among  the  noisy 
crowd. 

She  looked  up  and  smiled  and  nodded  and 
gladly  waved  her  hand ; and  then  she  turned  to 
point  them  out  to  a companion  who  stood  near 
her,  and  who  had  not  been  looking  at  the  pier 
or  town  as  they  approached,  but  was  standing 
with  both  arms  upon  the  side  of  the  vessel 
gazing  evidently  across  the  water,  watching  the 
sweep  of  the  birds  that  followed  them,  or  count- 
ing the  white  winged  pleasure  boats  and  brown 
fisher’s  sails. 

“Halloa!  ” exclaimed  John.  “ Why,  here  is 
another  one.  Another  of  the  old  London  party, 
Zare.  Where  on  earth  did  they  find  him?  Why, 
look  by  Miriam  there,  he  is  turning  this  way,  it 


168 


PRINCE  HUGO. 


is  lie,  and  lie  observes  us  now — capital,  delighted 
to  see  you,  my  dear  fellow — look,  there  is  Har- 
court  Lynton,  standing  by  Miriam,  just  taking 
off  his  hat — ” 

“ I see,  so  it  is,”  said  Zare,  smiling  and  blush- 
ing significantly  with  a quick  glance  into  John’s 
face.  “ I am  so  glad — no  doubt  of  it,  it  is  Mr. 
Lynton,  our  charming  host  of  the  river  party, 
Mons.  Jean — Do  you  recollect  ? ” 

“ I think  I do,”  John  answered.  “ This  is 
splendid,  and  now  we  only  want,  to  make  us 
quite  complete  and  happy,  Zare,  of  our  old  set 

again  Lady  Dyncourt  and ” 

He  had  no  time  to  utter  the  name.  She  had 
turned  from  him  and  went  forward  a little  to 
kiss  her  hand  and  smile  in  welcome  to  Miriam, 
and  in  kindly  recognition  to  Mr.  Lynton  as  he 
stood  up  and  removed  his  hat  again  and  bowed 
from  where  he  stood  by  Miriam’s  side. 

“ How  well  she  looks,”  murmured  Zare  in  a 
low,  loving  tone,  as  she  gazed  across  at  them  upon 


THE  GENEVA  STEAM-BOAT. 


169 


the  deck,  and  continuing  to  John,  who  came 
and  stood  close  by  her  side,  “ Is  she  not  looking 
well?  Dear  Miriam, — and  so  merry  and  happy. 
What  a pretty  travelling  dress.” 

“ Lynton  looks  a bit  sunburnt,”  said  John ; “ I 

fancy  he  has  come  over  the  V pass.  How 

clever  of  them  to  find  each  other  out.  What 
fun,  our  all  being  here,  to  be  sure  ! Take  care, 
stand  back  just  a very  little,  Zare.” 

The  crowd  was  pouring  out  now,  and  in  as 
well ; backwards  and  forwards  along  the  narrow 
gangways,  as  the  little  steamer  leant  up  against 
the  pier ; porters  hurrying  on  board  to  secure 
luggage,  and  hotel  commissioners  squeezing 
through  opposing  streams  of  tourists  to  claim 
the  particular  voyageurs  whom  they  had  come 
to  meet,  and  for  whom  apartments  with  due 
state  and  ceremony  were  prepared. 

Among  these  was,  very  much,  the  Debugines 
party,  for  whom  a huge  omnibus  waited  specially 
from  the  hotel  Trois  Couronnes,  and  on  whose 


170 


PRINCE  HUGO. 


behalf,  a big,  important -looking  commissioner 
with  gold-laced  hat  and  collar,  pressed  instantly 
on  board,  recognising  them  as  if  by  instinct  at 
once,  and  introducing  himself  with  many  bows 
and  flourishes,  to  the  tall  English  footman  who 
clung  to  Mrs  Debugine’s  particular  wraps  and 
dressing  cases,  and  to  the  smart  lady’s  maid,  who 
stood  bewildered  and  despairing,  amid  a pile  of 
bags,  parasols,  luncheon  baskets,  and  general 
paraphernalia  of  fashionable  travel. 

A German  courier  who  spoke  everybody’s 
tongue,  interfered  presently,  however, — took 
possession  of  the  fat  commissioner,  and  saved  all 
further  efforts  at  explanation  between  him  and 
the  London  footman  or  the  bewildered  “ Mees.” 
He  arranged  everything,  and  indicated  immedi- 
ately the  pile  of  luggage,  gigantic  and  diversified, 
which  was  to  proceed  under  care  of  commissioner 
and  porters  to  the  hotel. 

Then  Monsieur  and  Madame  were  escorted 
ashore — Monsieur  requiring  great  care  in  the 


THE  GENEVA  STEAM-BOAT. 


171 


gangway  transit,  being  still  much  enfeebled  in 
his  fat  short  legs  by  gout  in  the  stage  subsequent 
to  its  expulsion,  and  being,  good  man,  much 
imperilled  in  this  landward  journey,  which  he 
took  slowly  and  carefully,  between  the  courier 
and  his  English  valet. 

“ My  goodness  gracious ! John  Erere,  is  this 
you?”  exclaimed  Mrs.  Debugines.  “I  am  very 
glad  to  see  you.  Dear  me,  will  they  ever  get 
Mr.  Debugines  safely  into  the  omnibus  ? Where 
is  Miriam,  is  she  coming — Oh  ! there  she  is. 
My  goodness,  is  Mr.  Debugines  on  shore  ? ” 

“ Allow  me,”  said  John,  taking  her  little  bag 
from  her  hand.  “ My  dear  aunt,  I am  most 
delighted  to  see  you,  let  me  have  your  dust  cloak 
too ; will  you  not  take  my  arm  just  as  far  as 
the  carriage  ? Mr.  Debugines  is  all  right,  he  is 
nearly  at  the  ’bus  already.  But  I am  sorry  to 
see  him  looking  so  feeble.” 

“ Oh,  he  is  much  better,  thank  you.  Do  not 
mind  me,  but  will  you  pray  run  on  and  look 


172 


PRINCE  HUGO. 


after  him.  Oh  Miriam,  here  you  are,  and  good 
gracious,  is  that  the  singing  girl  again  ? ” 

Miriam  and  Lynton  had  reached  the  shore 
now,  and  Zare,  with  bright  smile  and  sunny 
welcome,  was  right  and  left  holding  each  by  the 
hand. 

“ I am  so  glad,  I am  so  glad,”  she  said  softly, 
as  if  she  really  more  than  meant  it ; as  if  there 
was  a feeling  deeper  even  than  expressed  in  the 
simple  welcoming  words,  stirring  at  her  heart, 
and  bringing  that  warm  colour  to  her  cheek  as 
she  looked  into  Miriam’s  face,  as  she  clasped  her 
hand  tight  and  eagerly,  and  then  suddenly 
dropped  her  softly  suffusing  eyes  under  their 
long  dark  lashes  in  silence. 

“ Dearest  Zare,”  Miriam  was  answering. 

“ Mademoiselle  La-Gonidet,  what  a crown  to  a 
succession  of  felicitous  encounters  is  this  meeting 
with  you  again,”  Harcourt  Lynton  said.  “ And 
Frere,  capital ! that  is  surely  him  promenading 
off  with  Mrs.  Debugines?  ” 


THE  GENEVA  STEAM-BOAT. 


173 


“ Yes,  we  are  all  here,”  said  Zare,  “ and  Mrs. 
Redmond  too;  you  remember  her,  Miriam,  my 
friend.” 

“ Of  course  I do,”  and  Miriam  turned  towards 
the  American  lady  who  had  stood  aside  a 
moment  during  the  greeting  of  the  group. 
“ How  do  you  do,  Mrs.  Redmond  P I am  so  glad 
we  have  succeeded  in  catching  up  you  and 
Zare.” 

“ And  I am  regular  glad,”  said  that  bright 
lady.  “We  have  just  been  wanting  you,  you 
know,  to  make  us  complete.  She  is  looking 
well,  is  she  not,  now  ? ” Mrs.  Redmond  continued 
with  a smile  and  a nod  towards  Zare. 

“ She  is  indeed,”  said  Miriam,  and  then  she 
paused,  and  her  gaze  rested  a moment  on  Zare, 
realizing  instantly,  as  John  had  done,  how  much 
she  had  gained  since  they  had  parted  in  London  ; 
in  beauty,  in  figure,  and  in  fulness  and  grace  of 
form — and  in  brightness  too,  for  there  was  a 
wonderful  play  of  life  and  sunshine  that  was 


174 


PBINCE  HUGO. 


quite  new  to  her,  in  Zare’s  eyes,  on  her  changeful 
face,  and  rapid  spirited  gestures  as  she  stood  near 
the  pier’s  point  there,  watching  the  little  steam- 
boat move  away  again  and  answering  Harcourt 
Lynton’s  remarks. 

“ She  is  looking  wonderfully  well.” 

“ Lovely,  is  she  not  ? ” said  Mrs.  Redmond 
enthusiastically,  “ and  I will  tell  you  what  she 
is  here, — and  that  is,  regularly  downright  the 
rage.” 

“ Indeed,”  said  Miriam,  not  exactly  taking  in 
what  she  might  mean. 

“ She  is  though,  and  she  deserves  it,  there  is 
nobody  can  come  near  her  among  them  all. 
The  Paris  people  at  the  hotel  up  there,  I mean 
from  the  Opera  Fantasiicpue ; there  is  not  one  of 
them  half  as  popular  at  the  Prince’s  concerts  as 
she.” 

“ She  has  been  singing,  then?  ” said  Miriam. 

“Singing?  Of  course  she  has.  You  knew 
she  meant  to,”  said  Mrs.  Redmond  with  a quick 


THE  GENEVA  STEAM-BOAT. 


175 


glance,  for  of  course  the  projected  connection 
— between  Miriam  and  her  little  American 
singing  friend  of  old  Paris  days — had  been  con- 
fided to  Mrs.  Redmond,  and  she  was„  for  a 
moment  anxious  and  annoyed.  “ Did  his  family, 
you  know?  ” as  she  usually  called  the  Debugines 
and  Rays  collectively.  “ Did  his  family  not 
know  that  Zare,  if  she  got  a chance  during  her 
Swiss  tour,  had  meant  to  sing  ? ” 

“ Oh  yes,”  said  Miriam  with  a quick  sigh. 
“ I knew  it.  At  least,  I feared  she  would  feel 
obliged  to  do  it,  and  think  it  her  duty  if  an 
opening  offered  anywhere.” 

“ And  a splerfdid  opening  has  offered  here,  as 
of  course  you  know  also.  It  is  not  every  young 
singer  of  Zare’s  experience  and  years,  that  gets 
a chance  of  establishing  her  reputation  in  the 
profession  all  over  Europe,  as  she  has  done,  by 
becoming  the  favourite  private  concert  singer  of 
the  fastidious  Prince  Hugo.  Miss  Ray,  he  is  so 
well  and  so  widely  known  for  culture,  criticism, 


176 


PRINCE  HUGO. 


and  correct  taste,  that  it  will  be  enough  for  her 
almost  anywhere  in  her  future  career,  to  say, 
that  she  has  sung  at  the  Villa  de  la  Joie  through- 
out a season  for  him — he  is  so  fond  of  her  too, 
and  he  is  such  a charming  man.  But  of  course 
you  will  know  him,  La  Joie  is  the  place  best 
worth  seeing,  and  the  thing  best  worth  doing 
here.” 

“ Indeed,”  said  Miriam  again,  and  once  more 
she  sighed,  and  then  before  more  could  be 
added  at  that  moment,  Zare  approached  as  the 
boat  finally  swept  away,  and  with  Harcourt 
Lynton  still  walking  between  her  and  Miriam, 
they  all  turned  together  up  the  pier. 

“ It  is  not  far  to  our  Hotel,  will  you  walk, 
dear  ? ” said  Zare  in  her  soft  tones  to  Miriam, 
“ or  will  you  go  in  the  omnibus  with  Monsieur 
and  Madame  Debugines?  ” 

“Oh!  I will  walk,”  exclaimed  Miriam.  “But 
what  has  become  of  my  cousin  John  ? ” 

“ Here  he  is,  he  has  been  very  good,”  said 


THE  GENEVA  STEAM-BOAT. 


177 


Zare,  “much  better  than  any  of  us;  he  has  been 
helping  to  put  M.  Debugines  into  the  carriage. 
I forgot  everything,”  she  added,  smiling  across 
Harcourt  to  Miriam,  “ everything  in  my 
pleasure  at  seeing  you  again.” 

Miriam  answered  the  smile  with  a bright 
loving  glance,  and  at  that  moment  they  met  John. 

“ Well,  here  you  all  are  ; this  is  very  nice — 
Miriam,  steam  and  tea  kettles  do  not  suit  you 
badly,  although  you  do  not  seem  to  enjoy  them, 
you  are  looking  remarkably  blooming.” 

“ Thank  you,  I am  very  flourishing,”  Miriam 
laughingly  replied.  “ But  oh ! John,  I was  so 
tired  of  Spaalbad,  of  all  these  dreadful  people ; I 
cannot  tell  you  how  tired.” 

“ Well,  there  are  plenty  of  dreadful  people  as 
you  call  them,  here,”  he  answered,  as  he  turned 
with  them,  and  sauntered  up  the  pier  by  her 
side.  “ Lots  of  people,  and  bigger  table  d’hdtes 
than  at  Spaalbad,  I suspect,  so  you  will  not  be 
better  off  in  that  particular  respect.” 


VOL.  II. 


N 


178 


PRINCE  HUGO. 


“ Oh  yes,  but  one  can  get  out  of  their  way 
here,  there  are  the  mountains  to  look  at,  and 
the  hill  scrambles,  and  the  lake.  Oh ! lots  of 
things,  John.  I shall  like  this  much  better,  and 
then,  there  are  all  of  you.” 

“ Yes,  we  have  all  turned  up,  odd  to  say,  old 
and  new  friends  together,  and  now,  here  is 
Lynton  as  an  unexpected  addition.  When  did 
you  drop  upon  him  P ” 

“ It  was  he  who  dropped,”  said  Miriam 
brightly.  “ He  got  into  the  boat  at  Lutry.” 

“ Quite  by  chance  ? By  Jove,  how  very  odd.” 
“ Quite  by  chance.  I was  so  amused  to  see 
him  sauntering  languidly  on  to  the  deck,  without 
seeing  one  of  us,  of  course ; with  that  solemn 
Luloni  of  his,  carrying  a mountain  of  books  and 
rugs,  and  leather  cases  at  his  back.  He  was  so 
suprised  to  find  us  on  board.” 

“ By  Jove!”  repeated  John.  “ How  comical. 
This  is  a country  for  rencontres  however,  I have 
been  hard  at  them  myself.” 


THE  GENEVA  STEAM-BOAT. 


179 


“ You  P Indeed, — whom  have  you  met  ? ” 

“ Several  people.  One,  about  the  last  person 
I expected  to  meet,  one  whom  I scarcely  ever 
expected  to  see  again  in  this  world,  and  whom 
however,”  added  John  suddenly  with  a curious 
laugh,  “ I perceive  I am  about  to  meet  even 
now  immediately  once  more.” 

He  was  looking  up  as  he  spoke,  beyond  the 
crowd  of  people  still  bustling  along, — and 
up  beyond  the  omnibuses  and  char-a-bancs  to 
the  road  immediately  above  the  pier;  where, 
standing  just  a little  drawn  back  by  itself,  he 
caught  sight  suddenly  of  Prince  Hugo’s  one 
seated  char ; De  Vigne  standing  near,  and  the 
Prince  seated  in  the  little  carriage,  holding  the 
reins  of  the  impatient  horse, — and  watching,  as 
he  had  done  when  John  himself  appeared,  the 
new  batch  of  arriving  tourists,  as  they  trooped 
up  the  pier. 

“ There  is  the  old  friend  of  my  student  days 
whom  I have  met  so  unexpectedly,”  said  John. 


180 


PRINCE  HUGO. 


“There,  in  that  little  one  sided  carriage  up 
there.” 

“ Who  is  he  ? ” said  Miriam. 

“ He  is  Prince  Hugo  of  Rodavia,”  said  John 
shortly.  “ And  I am  staying  with  him,  Miriam, 
at  the  Villa  de  la  Joie.” 

The  two  were  walking  through  the  crowd  of 
porters  and  luggage,  and  clamouring  tourists,  a 
few  steps  in  front  of  Mrs.  Redmond  and  Har- 
court  Lynton  and  Zare ; so  Miriam  could  answer 
John,  who  spoke  in  an  odd  curt  manner,  as  he 
pointed  out  Prince  Hugo,  and  who  walked  on 
now  by  her  side  with  his  hands  deep  buried  in 
his  pockets,  and  with  his  eyes  fixed  on  the  ground. 
Miriam  could  answer  him,  turning  round  with 
questioning  and  surprised  gaze  upon  his  face. 

“ John,  what  do  you  know  of  Prince  Hugo  ? 
Is  he  the  same  of  whom  Zare  wrote  once,  but 
onlv  once,  to  me,  and  of  whom  Mrs.  Redmond 
speaks  so  enthusiastically,  as  if  they  knew  him 
so  well  ? ” 


THE  GENEVA  STEAM-BOAT. 


181 


“ The  same,”  said  John ; and  as  no  more  came 
in  explanation  from  him,  Miriam  asked  again — 
“ And  what  do  you  know  of  him  ? ” 

“ What  I know  of  him,”  said  John,  “ is  all 
good,  Miriam,  all  good, — all  I have  ever  known, 
to  this  very  hour,  I mean,  and  that  was  a good 
deal,  too,  in  one  way  and  another.  How  I 
have  known  him,  do  you  not  remember  perhaps  ? 
I wrote  to  you  of  my  summer  at  the  Court  in 
the  Rodavian  forests  years  and  years  ago.” 

“ Ah,  yes,  I do  remember ; and  that  is  really 
him,  John,  whom  you  used  to  write  about  so 
warmly  ? ” 

“ That  is  he  himself,  and  he  is  kind  and 
charming  as  ever,  Miriam.  I tell  you  he  has 
made  me  go  and  stay  with  him  at  his  house.” 

“ How  delightful  for  you,  John  ! ” 

“ In  many  ways,  yes,”  he  answered. 

Then,  as  they  neared  the  head  of  the  pier, 
they  both  stopped,  looked  round  for  the  others, 
and  John  was  silent  again. 

O 


182 


PRINCE  HUGO. 


“ And  it  is  at  this  villa  that  Zare  has  been 
singing  so  successfully  P ” said  Miriam,  quickly, 
again,  and  in  a low  voice,  as  the  other  three 
approached. 

John  had  no  time  for  more  than  a sign  in  the 
affirmative.  The  others  had  joined  them  now, 
Zare  laughing  and  answering  Harcourt’s  languid 
sallies,  with  shy  bright  smiles  and  swift  saucy 
glances  from  under  her  long  dark  lashes,  and 
colouring  now  vividly  and  suddenly  as  they 
paused  by  John  and  Miriam,  and  as  she  looked 
above  the  pier  and  the  carriages  and  bustling 
crowds,  unconsciously,  and  all  at  once  saw  who 
was  waiting  there. 

At  that  moment  Prince  Hugo  observed  them 
all,  and  he  also  started  and  stepped  down  from 
the  char  at  once.  He  made  a sign  to  the 
Yicomte  de  Vigne  then,  and  gave  him  the  reins. 

“ The  Prince  ! ” Mrs.  Redmond  had  scarcely 
time  to  say. 

“ Hugo  of  Rodavia  ! ” Harcourt  had  but  just 


THE  GENEVA  STEAM-BOAT. 


183 


time  to  exclaim.  “As  I live,  it  is  lie!  By 
George,  how  extraordinary ! I have  not  seen 
him  since  I was  attache  at  Vienna/’ 

The  Prince  was  among  them  all. 

“ Good  morning,  your  Highness,”  from  Mrs. 
Redmond ; a silent  removal  of  his  hat  and  a 
slight  bow  from  John.  A deeper  colour  still 
for  a few  seconds  on  Z are’s  cheek  as  Prince 
Hugo,  with  uncovered  head,  and  hat  held  low 
in  his  left  hand,  extended  the  right  one  cordially 
to  Mrs.  Redmond,  and  then  also — with  a grave 
smile  and  a quick  passing  glimmer  of  intense 
feeling  in  his  eyes — towards  her.  A backward 
step  from  Miriam,  who  stood  silently  and  won- 
deringly  for  the  moment  by  Harcourt’s  side, 
while  the  Prince  saluted  these,  his  two  favourite 
and  familiar  friends. 

Then  a low  courteous  bow  came  in  Miriam’s 
direction,  as  Mrs.  Redmond  murmured  some- 
thing about  “ the  honour  of  presenting;”  and  as 
John  said,  frankly  and  at  once,  “ May  I make 


184 


PRINCE  HUGO. 


you  acquainted,  my  dear  Prince,  with  my  cousin, 
Miss  Miriam  Ray.”  Zare,  still  with  that  deep 
colour  coming  and  going  upon  her  cheek,  turned 
and  watched  curiously  for  a moment  the  greet- 
ing between  the  two. 

Miriam  was  taken  rather  by  surprise,  and 
rather  puzzled  over  the  whole  thing;  and  not 
much  accustomed  to  foreign  and  out  of  the 
way  acquaintances  at  any  time.  But  the  ready 
courtesy  and  the  composed  dignity  of  her  true 
good  breeding  came  to  her  assistance  imme- 
diately, as  she  bowed  and  then,  too,  smiled.  Por 
it  was  impossible  to  meet,  without  pleasure,  and 
without  an  answering  smile,  the  sweet  cordial 
gleam,  flitting  swiftly  over  his  grave  face,  with 
which  the  Prince  received  always,  an  introduc- 
tion, that  instinctively  pleased  him,  recognising 
as  he  did  by  quick  intuition  an  acquaintance 
whom  he  would  probably  like,  and  welcoming 
her,  as  it  were,  to  his  complete  confidence  and 
to  familiar  intercourse  unhesitatingly. 


THE  GENEVA  STEAM- BO  AT. 


185 


He  stood  with  head  uncovered  before  Miriam 
for  a moment,  with  this  bright  cordial  gleam 
upon  his  face,  admiring  her  in  silence,  with 
rapid  and  comprehensive  glance  and  with  keen 
critical  judgment ; admiring  the  pose  of  her  head, 
the  full  noble  lines  of  her  tall  figure,  the  sim- 
plicity and  yet  unmistakable  distinction  in  her 
whole  mien. 

There  was  composure  and  much  dignity  of 
manner,  too,  as  she  bowed,  and  then,  a little 
hesitatingly,  but  with  an  instinct  of  cordiality 
to  her  cousin’s  old  tried  friend,  and  in  frank 
English  fashion,  held  out  her  hand.  It  pleased 
him  particularly,  and  he  smiled  again  with  a 
peculiar  courtly  sweetness  of  manner  and  glance, 
as  he  took  her  hand,  bent  low,  and  then  touched 
it  lightly  with  his  lips, — thus  suddenly  confusing 
her,  however,  to  a degree  that  little  else  would 
have  done ! 

John  could  not  help  a covert  smile  of  amuse- 
ment ; but  before  any  words  were  actually  ex- 


186 


PRINCE  HUGO. 


changed  between  them,  Harcourt  Lynton  caught 
the  Prince’s  eye. 

“ Ah,  moil  cher ,”  he  said,  “you  here?  Well, 
this  Geneva  steamboat  is  the  most  delightful 
thing  in  the  world.  Why,  how  are  you  ? You 
are  not  still  at  Vienna,  are  you  ? — no  ? ” 

“ How  kind  of  your  Highness  to  recognise 
me  ! ” said  Lynton.  “ I was  just  thinking  of 
recalling  myself  to  your  memory  on  the  chance 
merely  that  you  had  not  forgotten  me.” 

Prince  Hugo’s  hand  was  clasping  his  now. 

“ I never  forget,”  he  said ; “ that  is  the  one 
thing  concerning  me  I would  have  all  my  friends 
to  know.  I cannot  forget — I never  do.  Ah, 
Lynton,  those  were  pleasant  old  times  at 
Vienna.  I am  glad  to  meet  you  again,  and 
that  you  know  all  our  friends.  This  is  charm- 
ing ! Let  us  walk  up  the  pier  together.  You 
all  knew  each  other,  then,  before  now  ? ” 

“ We  are  all  denizens  of  the  smoky  capital, 
Sir,”  said  Harcourt  Lynton — “ denizens  of  a 


THE  GENEVA  STEAM-BOAT. 


18? 


world  where  we  go  round  and  round  together 
in  a circle  in  which  we  can  hardly  help  meeting 
from  time  to  time.” 

“ Ah  ! the  same  London  set  ,”  said  the  Prince, 
with  an  amused  smile,  as  if  proud  of  his  correct 
estimate  of  the  social  condition  of  that  metropolis. 

“ Yes,  and  even  more  than  that,  of  the  same 
set  by  choice  and  liking, — in  fact,”  he  added, 
glancing  at  John  and  Miriam,  “ I hope  I may 
say  we  are  great  friends.” 

“ Ah,  that  is  delightful.  And  now  you  will 
all  be  great  friends  with  me!  Mademoiselle 
Zare,”  he  continued,  turning  suddenly  to  her, 
and  speaking  in  that  peculiar  voice,  low,  gravely 
modulated,  rather  controlled,  and  with  an  under- 
current of  indescribable  feeling  in  which  he 
always  spoke  to  her — “ Mademoiselle  Zare,  you 
know  we  can  have  no  music  at  the  villa  this 
evening, — as  I have  to  go  to  that  stupid 
dinner  at  the  Due’s ; but  why  should  you  not 
bring  your  friends,  all  of  them,  up  to  me  before 


188 


PRINCE  HUGO. 


dinner-time  now?  There  is  yet  three  hours: 
come  and  introduce  them  to  the  mountain  view 
from  the  terrace  while  they  drink  a cup  of 
chocolate  or  of  English  tea.  We  might  even 
have  a little  music  then,  you  know.  What, 
Mrs.  Redmond?  Miss  Ray,  will  you  not  do 
me  the  honour  to  come  ? ” 


CHAPTER  X. 


SUNSET  ON  THE  TERRACE. 

They  all  went,  and  so  Miriam  and  Harcourt 
Lynton  made  acquaintance  with  the  Villa  de  la 
Joie,  and  with  the  glorious  view  from  the  broad 
terrace—  as  the  Prince  had  hoped— -under  favour- 
able circumstances. 

The  Alpewglithen  was  at  its  best.  The  sun  just 
beginning  to  set,  a rosy  flush  deepening  over 
the  distant  aiguilles  that  encircled  Mont  Blanc, 
on  the  peaks  of  the  Dent  d’Oche  right  opposite ; 
and  on  the  Dent  du  Midi  rising  away  at  the 
upper  end  of  the  blue  expanse  of  water  where 
the  gorge  of  the  Rhone  wound  towards  Martigny, 
and  to  the  Alps  of  the  Valais.  The  thick  pine 
fringes  that  topped  the  rocks  along  the  lake 


190 


PRINCE  HUGO. 


side  and  filled  their  shady  crevices,  were  casting 
darker  shadows  across  the  water  below — and  the 
feathery  acacias  and  beech  round  the  Prince’s 
Villa,  were  rustling  with  the  soft  whisper  of  the 
evening  winds  that  were  creeping  up  the  valley, 
rippling  the  surface  of  the  blue  lake,  and 
freshening  and  cooling  the  sultry  air. 

They  had  all  driven  up  from  the  hotel 
together,  as  soon  as  possible  after  their  arrival ; 
only  waiting  to  dust  off  the  traces  of  voyage  and 
signs  of  travellers’  fatigue,  and  feeling  that  the 
drive  towards  the  upper  slopes,  and  this  hour’s 
repose  out  on  the  broad  terrace,  was  very 
pleasant,  and  most  refreshing  after  the  heat  and 
glare  of  the  lake. 

Courteous  and  ready  as  Prince  Hugo  ever 
was  as  a host,  he  was  especially  so  in  his  atten- 
tion to  the  two  new  additions  his  habitual  party 
had  received  that  afternoon.  To  Harcourt, 
whom  he  welcomed  cordially  to  his  Alpine  re- 
treat, hoping  he  would  favour  it  as  much,  and 


SUNSET  ON  THE  TEBBACE. 


191 


visit  it  as  often  as  he  had  clone  the  Ross  Schloss, 
the  Prince’s  residence  at  Vienna. 

And  Miriam,  who  particularly  interested  him, 
seemed  to  engage  his  complete  (if  only  external) 
attention  this  afternoon — so  exclusively  did  he 
devote  himself  to  making  her  first  visit  to  the 
villa  of  a Rodavian  Prince,  agreeable  to  this 
young  English  lady ! 

Miriam  was  a type  of  woman  indeed  new  to 
the  Prince,  and  therefore  certain  to  be  interest- 
ing to  his  quick  intelligence,  disposed  as  he 
always  was,  to  critical  analysis  and  rapid  forma- 
tion of  theory  on  diversified  character.  She 
was  a novelty  to  him,  and  as  they  all  grouped 

on  the  terrace, — beneath  the  shelter  of  the  broad 

% 

chestnuts,  he  took  his  place  by  her  side  just 
between  her  seat  and  Zare’s. 

He  drew  her  into  conversation — into  a pleasant 
interchange  of  their  views  and  experiences  of 
the  Swiss  and  Switzerland.  And  he  soon  inte- 
rested Miriam,  for  she  was  fond  of  generalising, 


192 


PRINCE  HUGO. 


and  on  every  variety  of  experience  that  she  had 
encountered  in  her  somewhat  varied  life — she 
had,  indeed,  formed  views  and  made  up  opinions 
which  stood  more  or  less,  on  the  whole  indiffe- 
rently, the  test  of  passing  years. 

Mrs.  Redmond  captured  Harcourt  Lynton  and 
proceeded  to  investigation  of  his  conversational, 
or  at  least,  listening  powers.  She  affected 
diplomacy,  she  always  said  she  did ; and  though 
he  was  only  an  ex-diplomatist,  still  he  had  that 
particular  way  about  him  which  grows  over  a 
Viennese  or  Parisian  attache  like  his  dress  coat ; 
which  is  apt  to  cling  to  him  ever  after,  and 
which  was  just  that  particular  cachet  which  Mrs. 
Redmond  admired. 

De  Vigne,  John  Prere,  and  Scarlati  scattered 
themselves  between  the  two  groups,  Baron  Von 
Rochsdorf  coming  to  anchor  with  a large  cigar 
at  a little  distance.  It  was  a quiet  and  pleasant 
hour,  conducive  to  the  rapid  growth  of  ac- 
quaintance and  mutual  understanding.  The 


SUNSET  ON  THE  TERRACE. 


193 


scene  was  beautiful,  and  the  surroundings  all 
that  the  most  refined  art  of  agreeable  living 
could  suggest  or  supply. 

The  Prince  had  driven  straight  home  to  the 
Villa  from  the  pier  with  De  Vigne  in  his  char-d- 
banc ; and  had  arrived  at  least  an  hour  before 
the  party  from  the  hotel ; and  so  all  orders  for 
their  entertainment  had  been  given  and  carried 
out  even  before  their  appearance.  And  they  had 
come  out  through  the  large  drawing-room  on  to 
the  terrace,  to  find  an  attractive  little  repast 
arranged  on  small  tables,  set  out  between  the 
lounging  chairs.  Tea,  a V Anglais,  but  not  very 
English,  all  the  same — Chocolat  glace  in  small 
Dresden  cups,  rich  and  brown,  and  tempting  in 
colour,  and  with  a frothy  corolla  of  snowy  cream 
upon  the  top  of  each.  A beautiful  porcelain 
basket,  of  antique  pattern  and  form,  stood  on  one 
little  table,  piled  high  with  various  kinds  of 
fruits,  the  rich  bloom  of  purple  grapes,  the 
creamy  soft  tint  of  the  peach  and  the  apricot, 


VOL.  II. 


0 


194 


PRINCE  HUGO. 


and  the  luscious  ripe  green  figs,  all  making  a 
bright  medley  of  artistic  colouring,  at  which 
John  immediately  exclaimed. 

“ A study  for  Snyders,”  he  said.  “ How  im- 
possible it  would  be  for  anyone,  short  of  him,  to 
do  justice  to  these  shades  and  hues,  or  to  the 
wonderful  bloom  and  down.” 

“There  is  only  one  way  which  we  can  entirely 
do  justice  to  the  rich  combination,”  said  the 
Prince,  smiling,  and  at  the  same  time  handing 
the  heavily-laden  basket  to  Miriam  and  Zare ; 
“ Pray  refresh  yourself,  mesclemoiselles,  after 
your  hot  drive,  and  show  the  worthy  Bouchet, 
my  maitre  d’ hotel,  that  we  appreciate  his  artistic 
exertions,  and  do  them  justice  according  to  the 
best  of  methods.” 

“ l)o  such  beautiful  fruits  grow  in  Switzer- 
land ? ” said  Miriam. 

“ Everything  that  is  beautiful  grows  in 
Switzerland,  in  one  part  or  another,”  said  the 
Prince. 


SUNSET  ON  THE  TERRACE. 


195 


“ You  are  very  foncl  of  the  country,”  con- 
tinued Miriam,  a little  shyly,  for  she  was  not 
yet  accustomed  to  Prince  Hugo,  nor  could  catch 
any  particular  way  of  addressing  him. 

He  did  not  seem  to  expect  anything  par- 
ticular,—and,  in  fact,  always  gladly  dispensed 
with  conventionalities,  in  his  intercourse  with 
chosen  foreign  friends  like  these.  He  instantly 
and  cordially  replied  to  her  remark. 

“ Yes,  I am  very  fond  of  it ; it  grows  upon 
me  every  year.  I come  back  each  summer  to 
La  Joie  with  increased  pleasure,  and  leave  it 
every  autumn  with  greater  regret.  My  first 
coming  was  a curious  accident,  though.  I came 
with  a countryman  of  yours,  Miss  Ray ; a man  I 
liked  and  knew  well — Lord  Vernon  ; he  shot  in 
the  great  Federal  match  of  the  elite  at  Bale,  and 
won  the  first  prize  in  ’49.  I came  over  with 
him  as  a young  fellow  then,  and  caught  such  an 
enthusiasm  for  Switzerland  and  Swiss  sport, 
and  Swiss  rifle-shooting,  as  has  lasted  me  ever 


190 


PRINCE  HUGO. 


since.  And  now  it  has  developed  into  enthu- 
siasm for  Swiss  mountains,  and  flowers,  and 
glaciers,  and  lakes,  and  shores,  and  people  as 
well — I love  them  all.” 

“ Even  the  people  ? ” said  Harcourt  Lynton, 
in  a doubtful  tone.  “I  always  feel  rather 
about  them  as  Childe  Harold  did  of  the  Portu- 
guese.” 

“ Not  at  all,  not  at  all,”  said  the  Prince.  “ I 
know  many  travellers,  especially  English,  feel 
about  them  so,  because  you  know  them  so  little, 
and  they  know  you,  not  at  all.  And  so  they  are 
mercenary  to  you;  but  it  was,  nevertheless,  from 
an  English  book,  that  I fed  my  enthusiasm  for 
the  Swiss  in  those  days  of  my  youth,  when  I 
spent  my  energies  in  organizing  in  Rodavia,  the 
nearest  imitation  I could  bring  about  among  my 
young  soldiers  and  riflemen  of  the  Bundesauszug 
and  Scharfschiitzen.  I tried  the  Schivingfeste 
too,  the  wrestling  matches,  to  train  my  men 
there  to  athletic  sports,  such  as  I used  to  go  and 


SUNSET  ON  THE  TERRACE. 


197 


witness  at  Berne  and  Appenzell  in  my  young 
days.  I should  have  liked  to  have  taken  the 
prize  from  Lord  Vernon  with  my  long  rifle, 
eager  boy  as  I was.  I think  I might  have  done 
it,  but  my  father  was  alive  then,  and  would  not 
allow  me  to  try.  He  thought  the  people  might 
not  like  it  at  Rodenstadt  that  I shot  in  the 
Swiss  Elite.  But  I won  a prize  later  in  the 
Tyrol.  Ah,  I was  very  enthusiastic  even  then 
about  the  Swiss  and  Tyrolese,  and,  as  I say,  I 
loved  always  to  read  what  Grote  wrote  about 
them  in  your  English  book.  He  does  them  more 
justice  than  any  writer  I know,  in  that  brilliant 
passage  where  he  shows  the  similarity  of  their 
character,  particularly  their  political  character, 
with  the  ancient  Greeks.  Ah,  Miss  Ray,  we 
must  keep  you  in  this  country  until  we  have 
made  you  as  great  a lover  as  we  all  are  at  La 
Joie  of  the  Swiss.  But  you  come  too  late,  you 
English  travellers,  to  see  all  the  mountain 
beauties.  You  only  come  when  the  autumn 


198 


PRINCE  HUGO. 


flowers  are  covering  the  pastures,  and  you  miss 
the  spring  and  summer  bloom.  You  should 
go  up  to  a height  in  June  some  day,  before 
the  cattle  have  come  to  the  high  pasture  of 
the  Alps.  But  now,  at  the  close  of  August, 
even  the  lilac  lily  and  the  Alpen-rose  are 
nearly  over  for  the  year,  and  there  is  not 
much  but  the  gentian  on  the  slopes.  But,  ah  1 
how  beautiful  it  is  all  in  the  early  summer ! 
You  must  some  day  come  and  see.  Come  and 
find  me  here,  all  of  you,  some  year  on  the  first 
of  June,  and  we  will  go  up  over  a pass  toge- 
ther. Ah,  Miss  Bay,  you  have  never  climbed 
the  Pierre-a-Voir ! ” 

“ I have  never  seen  anything  of  Switzerland 
but  the  largest  hotels  by  the  lake  side,”  said 
Miriam.  “ I have  never  gone  anywhere  where  a 
gentleman,  very,  very  bad  indeed  with  gout  can- 
not go.  I have  never  climbed  the  hillside  even, 
beyond  a day’s  walk,  in  all  the  times  I have  been 
brought  to  rush  through  this  part  of  Switzerland ; 


SUNSET  ON  THE  TERRACE. 


199 


so  you  see.  Prince  Hugo,  my  knowledge  is  in- 
deed very  limited  of  its  attraction,  but  I love  it 
all  the  same.” 

“It  is  glorious  certainly,”  said  John  Frere, 
joining  in  this  circle  of  the  genial  converse. 
“ It  is  a glorious  thing  to  go  up  one  of  these 
passes,  all  by  one’s  self,  (except  perhaps  a guide,) 
with  nothing  to  burden  one  but  an  Alpenstock 
and  a bit  of  a knapsack,  the  lake  lying  below 
and  behind  one,  and  the  ranges  of  the  everlasting 
snows  before.  It  is  a sensation  quite  by  itself  in 
life  ; is  it  not,  your  Highness  ? ” 

“ It  is  indeed — De  Vigne  and  I walked  over 
a pass  into  Italy  together  last  year,  and  I shall 
never  forget  the  effect  upon  one’s  feelings  of  the 
rapid  and  sudden  transition  in  temperature  and  in 
scene.  One  long  day  I remember  we  passed  by 
ascent  and  defile  in  a few  hours’  walk  across  from 
valley  to  valley,  from  summer  to  winter,  and 
back  to  summer  again.  I remember  the  curious 
effect  as  we  mounted,  leaving  gradually  the  ripe 


200 


PRINCE  HUGO. 


corn  and  even  stubble  fields  for  crops  still  green. 
Then  reaching  a region  of  pine  and  birch  wood 
that  seemed  interminable,  and  was  such  a sombre 
contrast  to  the  smiling  harvest  lands  below  ; and 
at  last  coming  forth  from  this,  I recollect,  as 
from  out  dark  chilling  shades,  we  came  upon  a 
stretch  of  the  higher  pastures,  upon  a knot  of 
Bergers  gathering  the  short  hay  crop  ; and  then, 
at  last,  we  reached  those  confines  of  vegetation 
where  nature  blooms  forth  in  new  and  exquisite 
beauties,  in  her  final  farewell  to  the  world  of 
insects  and  flowers. 

“ It  was  in  the  midst  of  the  short  summer  of 
the  higher  region  of  flowers,  and  there  was  a 
brilliancy  of  summer  life  and  beauty  that  it  was 
strange  and  almost  sad  to  realize  would  so 
quickly  pass  away.  Violets,  anemones,  gentians, 
and  blue  bells,  I tell  you,  Miss  Ray,  gemmed  a 
carpet  of  richest  verdure  as  with  myriads  of  dew- 
spangled  stars.  The  Alpen-rose  was  in  full 
bloom,  thick  clusters  of  its  deep  blush-crimson 


SUNSET  ON  THE  TERRACE. 


201 


growing  all  around,  and  the  hum  of  insects,  of 
whom  there  are  so  many  in  that  swift  dream  of 
summer  up  there  on  the  very  glacier’s  edge,  filled 
the  air  with  a soft  music,  and  enthralled  the 
senses  with  a sweet  feeling  of  that  glad  mountain 
life.  But  it  was  so  soon  over,  a few  more 
upward  struggles,  and  summer  was  gone.  We 
were  in  Lapland.  For — first  vines,  then  wheat 
and  oak  trees,  then  beech  and  barley,  and 
lastly  pines  and  fir,  all  had  been  passed  now, 
and  all  were  left  behind — and  only  one  little 
flower,  the  edelweiss,  still  greeted  us  from  sunny 
crevices  just  here  and  there.  Then  for  a short 
time  we  wandered  across  the  glacier’s  pinnacle 
among  the  lichens,  in  the  keen  icy  air,  up  on  the 
silent  heights.  No  murmur  of  water,  no  song 
of  the  bird,  no  hum  of  the  insect,  only  now  and 
then  we  heard  a raven  caw,  and  once  the  sharp 
whistle  of  the  little  clever  marmot.  I shot  there 
with  my  rifle,  and  carried  three  ptarmigan,  from 
the  snow  ridge  with  me,  down  into  the  Italian 


202 


PRINCE  HUGO. 


valley.  They  started  up  quite  close,  I remember. 
It  was  no  shot  for  a Scharfschiitzen,  but  they  were 
all  we  saw,  except  one  lammergeier , the  Alpine 
monarch  among  the  birds,  went  soaring  and 
sweeping  across  the  sky  far  away  from  us,  and 
disappeared  over  the  mountain  ridge  too  distant 
even  to  attempt  a shot.  Oh  ! it  was  a wonderful 
day,  I shall  never  forget  it,  nor  I am  sure  will 
you,  De  Vigne,”  he  continued,  meeting  with  a 
kindly  glance  the  eager  gaze  which  the  young 
Swiss  had  centred  upon  his  face  throughout 
his  whole  description  of  their  expedition  in 
company.  “ You  remember,”  he  continued, 
“ the  evening,  after  the  sun  was  quite  set,  and 
the  nachtgluhn  was  falling  all  around,  as  we 
came  slowly  down,  down  from  out  the  region  of 
snow,  from  the  silence  and  the  majesty,  and  the 
solitude  of  the  high  ridge  into  the  little  Italian  vale. 
The  lustre  of  the  sweet  after-glow,  the  evening 
scent  of  the  flowers,  the  nut-cracker’s  cheerful 
note,  as  we  passed  through  the  lower  pine  woods, 


SUNSET  ON  THE  TERRACE.  20S 

and  the  birds  : — the  white-breasted  swifts,  the 
crimson-winged  wall-creepers,  we  saw  speeding 
to  their  nests  ; and  then  the  little  ‘ Wyl  ’ the 
village,  I mean,  where  we  slept  at  last.  So  tired 
we  were,  it  was  so  restful,  in  its  evening  quiet ; 
the  jodeln  of  the  JcuhruJien  was  just  echoing  from 
a neighbouring  peak  as  we  entered ; and  in 
that  little  primitive  village,  the  older  peasants 
still  noticed  it,  as  in  former  times,  by. removing 
their  hats  in  salutation ; for  you  know,  in  the 
ancient  days,  when  there  was  no  church,  no 
belfry,  nor  other  service  with  which  to  close  the 
Berger’s  day,  that  call  of  the  cow-herd  from  the 
high  peak  as  the  sun  set,  was  their  vesper  bell  to 
call  all  to  sing  “ Praise  to  the  Lord.”  They  had 
these  quaint  old  customs  in  that  village  still. 
l)o  you  remember,  De  Vigne?” 

The  young  Swiss  nodded  and  smiled  in 
answer,  and  murmured  a sotto  voce  assent  as  the 
Prince  continued. 

“ Some  day  you  must  cross  a pass  and  see  a 


204 


PRINCE  HUGO. 


glacier,  Miss  Ray.  Let  us  all  one  day  make  an 
expedition.” 

“ Ah  ! if  it  could  be,  it  would  be  delightful,’' 
said  Miriam.  “ But  I fear  it  will  be  hardly  for 
this  year,  our  stay  is  to  be  very  short  at  the 
hotel.” 

“ What ! do  you  return  to  your  foggy  London 
so  soon  then  ? ” 

“ Not  direct  to  London,  but  to  other  resorts 
of  travellers,  in  search,  not  of  the  lovely  beauties 
of  nature,  Prince  Hugo,  but  of  amusement  under 
the  guise  of  health.  I am  not  mistress  of  my 
own  plans,  you  see,  and  I really  do  not  know  if 
our  stay  here  will  be  short  or  long,  and  I fear 
not  the  latter.” 

“Well,  the  longer  the  more  pleasant  for  all  of 
us  sojourning  here,  mademoiselle.  I have  done  my 
best  to  depict  an  expedition  over  the  pass  in  such 
terms  as  to  attract  your  fancy,  perhaps  you  will 
come  back  and  do  it  some  day.  Mademoiselle 
Zare,  you  do  me  the  honour  to  listen  to  my 


SUNSET  ON  THE  TERRACE. 


205- 


little  recitation.  Do  you  think  you  could  be 
tempted — will  you  one  day  come  P ” 

“I  have  been  listening  to  every  word,”  answered 
Zare,  with  a sunny  smile.  For  her  attention  had 
indeed  soon  wandered  away  from  Scarlati’s  little 
murmuring  aside,  so  completely,  and  so  evidently, 
that  he  had  given  up  the  effort  at  conversation, 
and  had  been  listening  also.  “ I thank  you  for 
your  charming  recitation,  Prince,  it  allures  me 
like  a fairy  tale  to  your  glittering  glacier  heights. 
Tell  us  some  more.” 

“ No,  no;  no  more,”  he  said,  quickly.  “I  have 
talked  extraordinarily  much,  but  it  is  a favourite 
topic,  and  now,  I want  my  reward,  Mademoiselle 
Zare.  Scarlati  has  a new  batch  of  dainty  com- 
positions which  he  is  eager  for  you  to  try  ; will 
you  together  give  us  the  delight  of  a musical 
accompaniment  to  all  the  visible  harmony  of  this 
sunset  scene.  There  is  the  little  piano  in  my 
morning  room  just  behind  us  here,  which  I think 
you  do  not  entirely  despise.  Will  you  give 


.206 


PRINCE  HUGO. 


ns  a great  pleasure?  But  after  the  long  hot 
afternoon,”  he  added,  turning  towards  her 
and  bending  his  deep  earnest  eyes  upon  her 
face,  “ are  you  perhaps  too  tired  ? I would  not 
wish  to  fatigue  or  annoy  you,”  he  said. 

“ I should  enjoy  singing  with  Signor  Scarlati, 
if  your  Highness  likes  it,”  said  Zare,  brightly ; 
“ and  I think  it  is  the  least  we  can  do  in 
return  for  your  description  of  your  Alpine 
walk.” 

“ Oh,  will  you  ? Then  I have  told  you  a 
story,  so  now  you  will  sing  us  a lovely  song — a 
queenly  reward  for  a humble  effort.  Scarlati, 
will  you  open  the  piano  ? ” 

Zare  had  risen  as  she  spoke,  and  the  Prince 
rose  also  now,  and  stood  leaning  with  one  hand 
on  his  chair,  which  he  drew  back,  to  let  her  pass 
in  through  the  window.  Scarlati  sprang  for- 
ward with  alacrity  to  do  his  part,  entering  by 
the  wide  open  window,  and  rushing  to  the 
piano,  while  Zare  still  paused,  drawing  her 


SUNSET  ON  THE  TERRACE. 


207 


gloves  off,  and  looking  straight  and  brightly  up 
into  the  Prince’s  face. 

They  paused,  and  stood  one  moment  so.  He, 
as  usual  when  he  addressed  her,  letting  his  eyes 
rest  lingering  upon  hers.  He  was  grave  and  self- 
controlled,  as  if  full  of  some  deep,  strong  feeling, 
and  some  eager  but  concealed  thought ; of  some 
thought  that  troubled  him  too,  that  rose  ever  in 
the  background  of  his  mind  as  he  regarded  her — 
some  thought,  which  made  even  a passing  and 
accidental  exchange  of  words,  or  a glance  be- 
tween them,  a pleasure  always  dashed  with  pain. 

She  brightened,  invariably, — when  he  spoke 
to  her, — brightened  and  answered  back  word 
and  glance  and  smile,  with  an  ease  and 
pleasure  on  her  side,  that  was  evidently  quite 
spontaneous  and  irrepressible ; with  a curious  con- 
fidence and  happy  gladness  in  her  voice  and 
smile  indeed,  that  woke  up  unfailingly  at  a 
glance  or  word  from  him.  Her  eyes,  as  she 
looked  up  and  met  his,  were  full  now  of  that 


208 


PRINCE  HUGO. 


light,  and  sweet  eagerness — eagerness  to  respond 
to  him,  to  give  him  pleasure  if  her  singing  pleased 
him,  to  lighten  his  gravity,  if  it  might  be,  by 
the  playful  sunshine  of  her  own  glance  and 
smile ; to  convey  to  him  her  happy  confidence  in 
him,  her  irresistible  delight  in  his  presence, 
and  in  all  the  soft  beauty  with  which  he 
surrounded  her,  as  well  as  all  others  of  his 
chosen  friends.  Her  eyes  were  bright  with 
glad,  gay,  ardent  feeling  for  him,  as  she  flashed 
them  up  into  his  face ; and  his,  (his  so  much 
older,  deeper  and  graver  eyes,)  kindled  and  shone 
with  a wistful  gleam,  as  they  rested  a moment 
on  her  young,  vivid  face — kindling  and  shining 
for  one  second,  and  then  were  grave,  almost  cold 
again,  with  the  effort  of  his  firm  self-control. 

A sweet  smile  played  over  his  lips  however,  as 
he  said,  “ You  are  the  best  and  most  kind  of  my 
charming  artistes,  you  never  despise,  even  a little 
humble  audience  of  a few  friends,  you  are  ever 
ready  in  your  amiability  to  give  us  pleasure.” 


UNSET  ON  THE  TERRACE. 


209 


“ I never  could  despise  an  audience,”  mur- 
mured Zare,  “ that  contained  a single  friend, 
and  to  one  composed  of  friends — must  it 
not  be  always  joy  to  give  even  the  smallest 
pleasure?” 

She  turned  to  pass  into  the  little  room,  and 
he  moved  forward  as  if  to  follow  her.  Then  the 
gravity  deepened  upon  his  face,  deepened  until 
it  became  a sombre  shade. 

He  paused,  and  then  suddenly  with  a curious 
dignity,  almost  amounting  to  hauteur,  he  said, 
“ Scarlati,  will  you  do  the  honours  of  the  little 
blue  salon,  and  of  the  bijou  * Pleyel  ’ for 
Mademoiselle  Zare  ? ” and  he  turned  and  joined 
the  general  circle  again. 

He  was  silent  however,  and  with  that  grave, 
almost  pathetic  look  upon  his  face  still.  Miriam 
saw  it  as  he  turned  round  from  the  window, 
and  it  affected  her  strangely. 

There  was  such  a force  of  self-control  and 
such  a depth  of  unknown  and  eager  feeling  held 


VOL.  II. 


P 


210 


PRINCE  HUGO. 


beneath  the  control  in  that  strong  face ; in  the 
grave  blue  eyes,  in  the  expression  with  which 
his  lips  had  closed  tightly  under  his  dark  mous- 
tache and  in  the  curiously  wistful  pathos  of  the 
gaze  which  he  turned  away  from  her,  over  the 
distant  mountain  view. 

It  was  a gaze  that  spoke  deep,  if  well-con- 
cealed, suffering  beneath  the  veil  of  that  courtly 
and  genial  life  ; a single  gaze  that  revealed  in  a 
moment,  more  vividly  than  might  have  been  ex- 
pressed in  many  words,  a background  of  feeling, 
of  circumstances,  of  capacity  for  pain,  or  for 
deep,  passionate  joy. 

It  seemed  to  place  the  Prince  before  her  in  a 
new  light,  that  was  unexpected  but  unmistak- 
able, in  its  pathos  and  pain.  A light  in  which 
his  whole  character  and  personality,  seemed  to 
touch  her,  with  a curious  force,  causing  all  the 
fibres  and  chords  of  her  quick  sympathies  to 
vibrate  and  quiver  strangely,  as  she  watched 
him  for  a moment  unobserved. 


SUNSET  ON  THE  TERRACE. 


211 


“Poor  Prince  Hugo!”  was  the  unexpected 
comment  that  trembled  upon  her  lips. 

“ Poor  Prince  Hugo ! ” And  this,  then, 
was  the  sum  — the  result  of  her  observa- 
tions and  feelings  for  him  after  a sunset-hour 
spent  in  his  courtly  presence  on  this  broad 
terrace  of  his  lovely  villa  ! At  his  shrine  of 
nature’s  beauty,  and  his  temple  of  music  and  art  ! 
“ Poor  Prince  Hugo  ! ” And  yet,  why  should  she 
pity  him?  Indeed  Miriam  knew  no  cause.  Only, 
those  deep  eyes  had  met  hers  for  a moment,  and 
she  had  read  that  glance  of  pathos  and  pain. 
She  had  caught  the  wistful  tenderness  rushing 
over  the  self-control.  She  had  seen  the  weary 
eager  gaze,  over  valley  and  mountain  view, 
and  she  had  met  that  swift  glance  of 
his,  quite  bereft  of  its  wonted  quaint  gleam 
of  humour,  as  well  as  of  the  genial  glow 
with  which  it  ever  mingled  with  the  glance  of 
all  his  fellow-men.  There  was  a curious  loneli- 
ness in  the  gaze  for  a moment,  as  if  proudly  and 


-212 


PRINCE  HUGO.' 


unassailably  gathered  back  into  itself.  Miriam 
saw,  and  felt  eager  sympathy  and  strong  com- 
passionate regret.  But  she  knew  no  cause  ; she 
could  not  read  one  line  of  the  enigma:  she  only 
sighed  a sudden  unbidden  sigh,  as  he  turned 
away  towards  the  mountain  view  ; and  her  eyes 
followed  him.  She  sighed  but  uttered  no  word, 
and  at  that  moment  Zare’s  voice  broke  the 
silence  that  had  fallen  through  the  abendgluhi. 

Scarlati  was  the  composer  of  many  little 
quaint  semi-comical,  semi-pathetic  songs  ; small 
Italian  utterances,  characteristic,  and  very  effec- 
tive. They  exactly  suited  a peculiar  phase  of 
Zare’s  style  and  voice,  and  it  was  delicious  to 
him  to  have  her  chant  and  troll  them  out  to  his 
soft  accompaniment,  with  all  the  eager  senti- 
ment, the  sweet  pathos,  the  soft  southern  passion 
of  her  pliable  voice.  There  was  a quaint  dash 
of  humour  too  in  her  dramatic  action  ; as  he 
rattled  off  a lively  accompaniment  at  one  moment, 
and  followed  her  with  low  harmonious  sympa- 


SUNS  El  ON  THE  TERRACE. 


213 


t lie  tic  chords  at  another.  It  was  more  like 
“ a game  of  music,”  as,  with  voice  and  instru- 
ment, they  tossed  the  ball  of  melody  to  and  fro, 
keeping  it  afloat  and  in  perfect  harmony  between 
them.  A game,  to  show  off  the  ready  skill  of 
each,  in  their  changeful  duet-power  of  pathos 
or  humour.  “A  game  of  music  ” rather  than  a 
grave  performance  of  any  distinctive  or  complete 
description,  delicious  to  listen  to  out  there  in 
the  abendgliihi , upon  the  terrace,  and  pleasant 
evidently  to  perform — for,  they  danced  on  with 
voice  and  piano,  in  mingled  and  changeful  strains, 
untiring  and  unceasing  for  nearly  half-an-hour  ; 
while  applause  and  acclamation  of  feeling, 
varying  from  pathos  to  amusement,  reached 
them  from  out  the  terrace,  at  every  drop  of  the 
voice  or  accompaniment,  or  at  every  threatened 
pause. 

It  was  a sort  of  music  in  which  Prince  Hugo 
delighted  at  times,  and  it  fetched  him  up  now, 
in  spite  of  himself,  from  his  dejected  mood. 


214 


PRINCE  HUGO. 


“ How  charming  she  is  ! ” he  exclaimed  at 
last,  with  a low  laugh  and  gesture  of  complete 
satisfaction ; and  turning  to  Miriam  once  more, 
“ You  think  her  very  charming,  do  you  not  ? ” 

“ I think  her  everything  that  is  most  perfect 
and  delightful,”  said  Miriam,  enthusiastically. 
“ I can  appreciate  her  less,  too,  as  a musician, 
than  in  any  other  phase  of  herself,  from  my  own 
limited  knowledge  of  her  art ; but  still,  in  that, 
as  in  everything  else,  she  is  indeed  charming 
to  me.” 

He  bent  his  head  with  a curious,  pleased 
gesture  of  assent,  as  if  she  had  spoken  to  please 
him  by  what  she  said,  and  as  if  he  accepted  and 
endorsed  the  opinion,  in  the  satisfaction  that 
came  to  him  from  her  words.  But  he  became 
suddenly  very  grave  again. 

“ I thought,”  he  said,  in  a low  tone,  “ that 
in  your  country  artistes  were  not  so  well  placed 
as  with  us  abroad ; as  regards  society,  I mean, 
and  their  opportunities  for  forming  ties  of  friend- 


SUNSET  ON  THE  TERRACE. 


215 


ship  and  intimacy,  such  as  Mademoiselle  Zare  is 
happy  in  possessing,  Miss  Ray,  by  knowing  you  ?” 
“ Ah,  Zare’s  is  an  exceptional  case.  Perhaps 
as  a rule,  your  view  is  a correct  one.  I think 
in  our  country  we  have,  in  our  social  estimate, 
this  fault : we  appreciate  and  appropriate  to  our- 
selves, talent  in  all  its  aesthetic  results  and  in- 
fluences upon  us,  and  on  our  surroundings,  and 
our  habits  of  thought  and  life.  We  estimate  it 
highly ; but  of  artistic  character,  temperament, 
and  personality,  we  are  certainly  ignorant.  I 
realize  it  more  since  I have  come  to  know  Zare 
so  intimately,  and  I remember  many  things  my 
cousin,  John  Frere,  used  to  say  on  the  subject 
long  ago.  I do  think  we  enjoy  the  works  and 
utterances,  musical  or  literary,  of  our  art  and 
letter-workers  in  London  more,  or  as  much,  as 
anywhere ; but  we  consider  them  (so  he  says, 
and  I think  he  is  right)  in  their  individuality, 
sensibilities,  and  temperament,  less  than  in  any 
country  in  the  world.” 


2 Hi 


PRINCE  HUGO. 


“ I am  glad  I formed  a correct  view,  and  that 
my  surmise  agrees  with  yours ; but  with 
Mademoiselle  Zare  it  is  different,  you  say  ? ” 

“ Very  different,  even  with  society  generally,” 
said  Miriam.  “ She  is  so  well  known  now,  and 
such  a favourite  everywhere ; and  to  me,  of 
course,  you  know,  she  must  be  different  from 
any  artiste  who  ever  sung,  or  any  other  woman, 
indeed,  I have  ever  met.  Do  you  not  know, 
Prince  Hugo?”  Miriam  added,  in  a lowered  tone, 
and  looking  straight  and  enquiringly  at  him  as 
she  spoke,  “ Do  you  not  know  the  relation  in 
which  Zare  and  I stand  to  each  other  now,  or 
in  how  very  close  a relation  I hope  we  will 
stand  some  day  ? ” 

Prince  Hugo  glanced  quickly  up ; he  was 
bending  forward  towards  her,  leaning  one  elbow 
on  his  knee,  as  in  suppressed  tones  they  had 
exchanged  the  last  few  remarks ; and  as  she 
spoke,  one  firm  hand  was  raised  to  his  face,  the 
fingers  with  their  massive  seal-rings  smoothing 


SUNSET  ON  THE  TERRACE. 


217 


his  dark  moustache,  and  his  eyes  fixed,  up  to 
this  moment,  upon  the  ground. 

He  raised  them  to  look  keenly  at  Miriam, 
Zare’s  voice  at  that  moment  breaking  forth  from 
the  room  in  a gay  little  Italian  carol,  dancing  and 
echoing  gladness,  in  its  sweet,  swift,  rhythmic 
flow. 

Prince  Hugo  paused. 

“ I know,”  he  said  in  a curious  deep  tone, 
“ I know  that  she  is  fiancee , I was  told  so  when 
I first  met  her.  But — is  it  true  ? I have 
heard  nothing  of  it  again.  I never  asked  her,” 
he  continued,  eagerly,  “ and — and — she  is  not 
one  who  would  speak  of  such  a topic  unbidden 
to  me.  Is  it  true  ? ” 

There  was  a strange  eagerness  in  his  manner, 
and  that  look  of  pathos  and  of  suppressed  pain 

came  into  his  eves  once  more.  There  was  an 

«/ 

instant’s  silence,  and  as  his  eyes  met  Miriam’s, 
a deep  flush  swept  over  Prince  Hugo’s  brow, 
fading  away  again  as  swiftly  and  instantly,  to 


218 


PRINCE  HUGO. 


leave  him  pale  as  marble.  His  gaze  still  eagerly 
-questioned  her  face. 

“ Prince  Hugo,”  said  Miriam,  in  a low,  grave 
tone  then,  “ Zare  La-Gonidet  is  engaged  to  my 
brother.’’ 


CHAPTER  XI. 


OP  MIRIAM. 

That  curious  conversation  with  Prince  Hugo 
made  a great  impression  on  Miriam.  He  did 
not  refer  to  its  subject  again — not  at  any 
moment  throughout  the  days  of  the  Debugines’ 
stay  at  the  hotel. 

They  stayed  just  fourteen  days,  and  they 
were  such  days  of  sunlight  and  brightness  as 
stamp  their  memory  on  all  time  to  come.  They 
sped  all  too  quickly,  and  soon  drifted  into  the 
history  of  the  past. 

But  short  as  it  was,  that  fortnight  was  full  of 
new,  various,  and  very  agreeable  experiences. 

They  saw  a great  deal  of  the  Prince  in  the 
short  time.  He  came  down  and  called  person- 
ally for  Mrs.  Debugines,  delighting  that  lady  by 


220 


PRINCE  HUGO. 


inviting  lier  to  his  villa,  and  by  extending  to  her 
one  of  those  special  invitations  to  his  charming 
concerts  which  admitted  her  within  that  inner 
circle  of  armchairs  reserved  for  his  particular 
friends.  He  gave,  indeed,  an  especial  supper 
for  her  benefit,  including  all  the  English  on  his 
private  list  from  each  of  the  huge  lake  hotels. 
And  all  this  much  enchanted  Mrs.  Debugines, 
for  it  “ even’d  ” her,  as  Mrs.  Redmond  expressed 
it,  with  Lady  Selina  Sudleigh,  as  well  as  with 
the  very  exclusive  mother  of  the  bevy  of  rosy 
English  girls. 

Prince  Hugo  made  himself  extremely  agree- 
able and  popular  during  those  days;  so  agreeable, 
indeed,  that  Mrs.  Dehugines  would  have  gladly 
prolonged  her  stay  indefinitely ; but  alas  ! the 
vicinity  of  lake  and  mountain  proved  unfavour- 
able to  Mr.  Debugines’  gout ; and  their  stay, 
like  most  things  in  this  very  contrary  world, 
was  cut  short  just  as  it  had  become  thoroughly 
pleasant. 


OF  MIRIAM. 


221 


Thus  the  delightful  intimacy,  and  unreserved 
and  easy  intercourse  of  the  chosen  little  party 
of  diverse  races  at  the  Villa  de  La  Joie  was, 
after  all,  of  very  short  duration. 

But  they  made  the  best  of  it,  and  while  it 
lasted,  so  dexterously  managed,  to  infuse  an 
especial  and  separate  enjoyment  into  every 
fleeting  day  and  hour,  that  immeasurable  depth 
and  significancy  of  life  seemed  to  condense 
itself  into  this  charming  fortnight. 

It  proved,  indeed,  one  of  those  little  cycles  of 
the  lunar  transit,  that  do  meet  us  sometimes  on 
this  world’s  weary  way ; one  that  leaves  a sense 
of  joy  and  beauty,  all  unspoilt  by  a certain 
flavour  of  sweet  sadness,  as  it  floats  into  the 
past,  away  on  memory’s  roseate  wings;  and 
which  seems  to  compress  a large  extent  of 
existence,  and  a wonderful  force  of  intense  ex- 
perience and  feeling  within  its  short  limits, 

Bor  life  is  lived  out  really  in  just  this  way! 
It  has  vast  tracts  of  level  sand — level,  monotonous. 


222 


PRINCE  HUGO. 


perhaps  sunless,  perhaps  sun-scorched ; and, 
besides,  it  has  Marah-streams  that  must  be 
drank  at  their  appointed  places,  that  flow  with 
deep  waters,  which  leave  bitter  memories  of 
their  taste ; but  it  has,  too,  its  Elims,  sweet 
sunlit  spots,  where  the  light  scorches  not,  be- 
cause of  the  shade  and  stillness,  where  refreshing 
fountains  and  blooming  flowers,  and  all  the  fair, 
bright  day-dreams  and  tender  harmonies  of 
summer,  make  life  glad  and  glorious  for  the 
time  being,  and  fill  the  soul  with  satisfaction, 
and  delight  it  with  ineffable  joy. 

Such  an  Indian  summer  broke  upon  them  all, 
through  the  early  days  of  September,  while  they 
lingered  together  by  the  blue  Swiss  lake  ; while 
they  met  and  mingled  joyously,  day  after  day,  all 
the  happy  attributes  of  the  party,  which  were  one 
and  all  so  conducive  to  the  enrichment  of  social 
life  ; while  they  drove,  and  walked,  and  boated, 
and  sauntered  on  the  terrace  at  sunset,  or  in 
the  sweet  abcndglillin ; as  Zare  and  Scarlati  sang 


OF  MIRIAM. 


223 

to  them,  and  John  Frere,  and  Harcourt  Lynton, 
and  the  Prince  himself,  brought  all  the  varied 
powers  of  converse,  with  which  artistic  tempera- 
ment, culture,  and  wide  experience  of  life  and 
men,  had  enriched  their  stores  of  mind  and 
fancy. 

It  was  a charming  fortnight.  And  yet,  through 
all  its  brightness  and  sunshine,  never  for  one 
hour  did  the  memory  leave  Miriam,  of  those  last 
ten  minutes  on  the  terrace  at  La  Joie,  the  first 
evening  she  had  gone  there.  Of  the  expression 
on  Prince  Hugo’s  fine  countenance  as  Zare  and 
Scarlati  sang ; of  the  pathos  and  struggling 
pain  that,  for  those  passing  moments,  clouded 
so  darkly  his  eyes  and  brow ; of  the  eager, 
wistful  look  with  which  he  had  met  her  grave 
gaze  as  she  spoke  of  Zare’s  engagement ; and  as 
he  murmured  low,  and  almost  pleadingly,  “ It 
is  not  true  ? ” 

With  steady  self-control  indeed,  his  eyes  had 
fallen  instantly,  and  every  rising  feeling  had 


224 


PRTNCFj  HTJGO. 


been  subdued  and  veiled  before  her,  as  she 
uttered  her  announcement — uttered  it,  she  could 
not  tell  herself  why — with  nervous  hesitation, 
but  with  intense  earnestness  and  gravity  : 

“ It  is  true — she  is  engaged  to  my  brother.” 
The  curious  sudden  change  which  had  passed 
over  the  Prince’s  countenance  had  amazed  her. 
There  was  evidently  some  strong  rebellious  feeling 
struggling  up  for  expression,  perhaps  hungering 
for  sympathy,  in  his  deep  eager  eyes,  but  it  was 
forcibly  controlled.  A cold  hauteur  had  fallen 
like  an  icy  sheath  over  his  face  for  a moment, 
and  then  he  had  drawn  himself  up,  thrown  off 
the  effect  of  their  conversation  and  of  his  own 
evident  dejection  with  determined  effort ; and 
then,  after  one  grave  silent  bow  in  reply  to  her 
communication,  he  had  smiled  into  her  face, 
murmured,  as  the  music  still  went  on,  some 
irrelevant  remark  on  some  indifferent  subject, — 
thus  becoming  his  courtly  and  reserved  self,  in- 
stantly again. 


OF  MIRIAM. 


225 


If  her  words  had  deeply  moved  him  from  any 
cause,  she  was  not  then  to  know  it.  If  Z are’s 
possible  engagement  to  Roderick,  or  to  any  one, 
had  been  indeed  the  thought  which  had  brought 
that  deep  strong  wave  of  pathos  and  bitter  pas- 
sionate feeling  breaking  over  his  face,  she  had 
no  cause  to  realise  or  feel  certain  of  it — and 
being  in  no  ways  imaginative,  or  prone  to  ex- 
travagant speculation,  even  the  dim  suggestion 
faded  from  Miriam’s  consciousness  gradually 
quite  away.  For,  though  she  never  forgot  the 
glance,  nothing  ever  recalled  it.  He  never  once 
referred  during  the  days  of  their  intercourse  to 
the  subject  again.  He  was  bright,  cordial,  plea- 
sant, to  all  of  them, — to  Zare,  as  before,  gravely 
sedulous  in  his  unfailingly  kind  remembrance 
and  attention  ; in  his  soft  and  eager  expressions 
of  admiration  for  her  genius,  and  of  his  enjoy- 
ment of  her  beautiful  art. 

And  Zare  beamed  upon  him  through  all  these 
days,  with  a radiance  of  glad  delight  in  her  own 


YOL.  II. 


Q 


226 


PRINCE  ‘ HUGO. 


existence,  and  of  eager  gratitude  to  him,  who 
was  the  centre  of  so  much  that  made  her 
momentary  life  so  delightful  to  her.  She 
glowed  and  sparkled  with  spontaneous  and  un- 
thinking happiness  that  was  pleasant  to  see. 
And  yet,  to  several  of  the  party,  who  knew  and 
remembered  certain  disturbing  facts,  there  was 
something  pathetic  in  all  her  childlike  and  un- 
conscious bliss ; and  something  saddening  as 
well  in  the  genial  external  sunshine  with  which 
the  Prince  gladdened  that  time  for  them  all. 

He  was  indeed  the  central  brightness  of  the 
party,  planning  and  carrying  out  every  pleasant 
expedition  and  scheme ; and  from  the  moment 
of  that  conversation  of  the  first  evening,  firmly 
crushing  within  himself,  any  return  or  at  least 
revelation,  of  the  inward  pain  and  weariness  and 
strange  sorrow  of  heart,  which  Miriam  had  seen 
so  unmistakably,  unveiled  before  her  then. 

Miriam  was  herself,  in  a peculiar  frame  of 
mind  and  feeling,  during  these  sunny  days. 


OF  MIRIAM. 


227 


There  was  new  gladness  and  sweet  mystic  en- 
joyment in  the  life  for  her  as  well  as  for  others. 

She  went  with  them  everywhere ; they  did 
everything  together;  and  almost  always — while 
the  Prince  somehow  seemed  naturally  to  saunter 
along  with  Zare — Harcourt  Lynton  found  his 
way  to  Miriam’s  side,  and  became  more  and 
more  as  the  days  went  on,  the  recipient  of  her 
many  views  and  sentiments,  and  her  theories  on 
all  manner  of  things. 

Languidly,  he  would  light  his  cigar,  and  lan- 
guidly he  would  appear  to  listen,  but  still  he 
none  the  less  suited  her,  as  no  one  else  could 
do  ; and  it  was  marvellously,  if  quite  uncon- 
sciously, delightful  to  her,  to  renew  here  by  this 
sunlit,  blue  Swiss  lake,  the  old  familiar  inter- 
course of  their  youthful  days. 

Miriam  had  had  so  many  theories  of  life, — 
Harcourt  had  had  very  few. 

Miriam  had  touched  the  cup’s  rim  and  sipped 
at  all  the  varied  streams  at  which  modern 


228 


FRINGE  HUGO. 


womanhood  is  struggling  to  find  self-satisfaction, 
and  through  each  and  all  she  seemed  to  be 
passing  up  to  this  epoch  in  her  life.  At 
varied  points  of  changeful  experience,  one  theory 
after  another  had  been  dropping  from  her,  like 
leaves  from  the  autumn-touched  tree,  and  now 
it  seemed  that  almost  none  were  surviving, — as 
she  wrote  of  herself  in  her  private  record  on 
that  strange  night  when  she  had  first  beheld 
Harcourt  Lynton  again, — none  surviving  the 
break  and  wash  of  the  long  slow  waves  of  time, 
save  certain  feelings, — old  deep  strong  feelings, 
that  had  been  with  her,  long  ago,  as  a wistful 
girl  dreaming  by  the  water-side,  and  that  stayed 
with  her  through  the  chequered  experience  of 
many  phases  of  intellectual  life, — stayed  with 
her  as  the  strength  of  her  spirit,  the  one  real 
inseparable  self,  while  all  powers  and  energies 
of  achievement  seemed  yielding  within  her  soul, 
— stayed  with  her,  and  revived,  and  drew  her 
upwards. 


OF  MIRIAM. 


229 


Miriam  found  the  stronger  sentiments  of  her 
heart  lived  and  survived  through  all  things— all 
theories,  all  cold  and  merely  intellectual  views 
of  life.  She  found  a shrine  within  her  own 
heart  in  which  Love  abided,  refusing  ever  to  be 
displaced  ; and  as  theory  after  theory  fell  away 
from  her,  her  own  strong  power  of  genuine 
feeling  reasserted  itself  again. 

That  tenderness  of  intense  sympathy  which 
had  ever  been  a leading  element  in  her  character, 
and  which  solitude  and  misapprehension  in  her 
home  surroundings  had  gone  far  to  embitter 
anjl  chill,  all  woke  up  again  in  the  curious  and 
unforeseen  influence"  and  experience  of  this 
eventful  summer ; — sympathy  and  strong  affec- 
tion for  Roderick,  restored  to  her  as  he  had 
been  for  a short  time  again, — sympathy  and  a 
tenderness  a little  romantic  perhaps,  but  affect- 
ing her  deeply  and  with  strong  force,  for  Zare, — 
an  interest  and  genial  pleasure  in  John  Frere’s 
society,  once  more  that  summer  brought  back 


230 


PRINCE  HUGO. 


to  her, — and,  above  all,  a subtle,  unsuspected, 
unforeseen  feeling,  in  which  all  the  past,  present, 
and  future  of  her  life  seemed  to  mingle  mystically 
in  one,  for  Harcourt  Lynton,  whose  constant 
presence  infused  ineffable  sweetness  into  these 
Swiss  days  for  her.  Whose  languid,  ductile,  un- 
resisting temperament  seemed  to  lean  towards 
her  with  a curious  attraction,  and  to  yield  itself 
unresisting  to  the  pleasant  and  bracing  influence 
of  her  more  vigorous  and  less  subjective  mind. 

Miriam  softened  wonderfully  throughout  this 
time  : even  the  unwearied  social  politics  of  her 
mother,  and  the  fractiousness  of  her  worthy 
step-father  with  his  chronic  complaint,  seemed 
in  these  days  less  oppressive  to  her,  and  with 
equanimity  more  possible  to  be  borne. 

Again  and  again,  as  she  mused  over  the  ex- 
perience of  each  happy  day,  her  own  past  life 
would  come  sweeping  across  her  memory  with 
curious  revelations  of  her  inner  and  intellectual 
self ; and  with  a curious  softening  influence,  too. 


OF  MIRIAM. 


231 


that  was  just  then  remoulding  her  entire  being. 
She  had  been  hard  and  self-centred  through  all 
these  years.  She  realized  and  she  knew  it  now. 
But  her  life, — since  her  father’s  death,  and  since 
the  loss  of  her  boy  comrades,  Roddy,  Harcourt, 
and  John, — had,  it  seemed  to  her,  been  so  shorn 
of  all  the  softening  influence  of  warm  sympathy 
or  genial  understanding,  that  she  had  hardened 
in  it  as  a natural  consequence  : had  hardened  to 
herself,  to  her  mother,  towards  everyone,  in  fact, 
in  a way  she  could  now  neither  explain  nor  excuse. 

She  had  seemed  to  grow  during  all  these 
years  like  a sensitive  plant  in  a northern  clime, 
with  only  elongated,  prickly  branches  and  stem, 
struggling  into  a chilled  and  difficult  existence, 
in  circumstances  under  which  fruit  could  not 
even  come  to  its  fair  blossoming  stage.  So,  only 
fabrics  of  cold  mental  theories  had  found  form 
or  reality  within  her  mind  during  all  this  time. 
All  else — feeling  of  every  kind,  love,  passion, 
even  affection — had  been  chilled  and  arrested 


232 


PRINCE  HUGO. 


within  her  heart  at  its  earliest  and  still  em- 
bryonic phase.  All  had  remained  among  the 
unknown,  unsuspected,  mystical  possibilities  of 
strange  human  nature,  for  many  of  her  young 
girl  years. 

Now,  all  had  suddenly  sprung  into  vigorous 
life! 

Miriam’s  was  one  of  those  vague  and  unde- 
fined temperaments  that  abound  around  us  now, 
full  of  force  and  capability,  finding  for  them- 
selves no  actual  and  healthful  outlet  for  self- 
expression  in  any  definite  way.  Had  she  had 
some  positive  gift,  of  art,  intellect,  or  imagination, 
she  would  have  uttered  and  developed  her 
spiritual  self  thereby,  much  earlier  in  her  history, 
and  so  saved  herself  many  dreary  and  unbeaute- 
ous  hours.  She  might  have  enriched  her  life, — 
as  Prince  Hugo  had  said  in  speaking  of  his 
beloved  music, — enriched  it  with  an  inward 
beauty  and  spiritual  warmth  which  would  have 
compensated  her  for  many  things,  and  stood  by 


OF  MIRIAM. 


233 


her,  an  inseparable  consolation,  through  many 
varied  experiences  of  weal  and  woe.  Had  she 
been  an  artist,  a musician,  an  intellectual  writer, 
endowed  with  sufficient  force  to  give  her  reflec- 
tive self  an  outward  and  appreciable  form  ; or  if 
she  had  been  even  a novelist,  she  might  have 
watered  her  soul’s  garden  from  refreshing 
springs,  and  with  sweet  soft  recurring  rains, 
beneath  which  manv  a fair  flower  and  tender 
gracious  fruit,  might  have  bloomed  up  and 
ripened,  to  the  beautifying  and  enrichment  of 
that  still  shadowed  pasture,  of  her  pure  womanly 
heart. 

On  the  whole,  she  had  perhaps  the  tempera- 
ment of  a novelist  more  than  anything  else, — 
though,  in  all  her  changeful  years,  it  never 
befell  her,  or  suggested  itself  to  her  mind,  that 
any  publisher’s  critical  reader  might  peruse  with 
prompt  approval  these  closely  locked  utterances 
of  her  soul.  But  she  had  the  temperament  of  a 
novelist  in  certain  elements  of  her  character : in 


234 


PRINCE  HUGO. 


her  inveterate  habit  of  generalizing ; of  evolving 
theories  continually  from  her  silent  observations 
on  human  sentiments  and  conditions  of  life  ; in 
her  quick  intuitions ; in  her  retentive  power  for 
impressions,  feelings,  and  rapid  effects ; and, 
above  all,  in  that  eager  and  quick  sympathy  of 
soul,  which  invested  common  things  with  a halo 
of  curious  romance  for  her,  and  with  which  she 
would  fling  herself  into  the  depths  of  another’s 
life  and  sufferings  or  desires,  and  which  had 
woke  up  within  her  into  full  force  now,  swaying 
her  whole  being,  with  uncontrollable  power,  amid 
the  novel  surroundings  and  strong  stirring  in- 
fluences that  had  suddenly  reached  her  life. 
This  sympathy,  unsuspected  and  untrained,  as 
it  sprung  up  within  Miriam,  had  perhaps, — as 
Mrs.  Debugines  said,  with  her  usual  practical 
shrewdness, — blinded  those  powers  of  worldly 
judgment,  which  at  the  best  of  times  wrere  so 
limited  in  Miriam’s  case — blinded  them  most 
effectually,  with  respect  to  Roderick  and  Zare. 


OF  MIRIAM. 


235 


It  Lad  been  such  a sweet,  bright,  beauteous 
thing  to  her, — such  a fair,  delightful  picture  of 
youth  and  happiness  and  romance  when  these 
two  had  broken  in  upon  the  horizon  of  her 
London  life.  Miriam  had  given  way  to  its 
absorbing  interest  and  infectious  influence,  with- 
out any  sort  of  consideration  or  any  definite 
thought  of  the  future  at  all.  And  it  was  this 
intuitive  sympathy,  dashed  with  its  sweet  strong 
flavour  of  romance,  which  now,  during  all  these 
bright  days  at  Yevey,  seemed  to  draw,  her  with 
curious  interest  towards  Prince  Hugo,  and 
caused  her,  in  spite  of  all  his  brightness  and 
his  appearance  of  satisfaction  and  content,  to 
dwell  constantly  with  speculative  wonder  within 
herself,  on  the  memory  of  that  first  afternoon 
when  Zare  La-Gonidet’s  voice  had  come  singing 
forth  to  them  into  the  abendgliih'fi;  when  that 
wave  of  colour  and  quiver  of  painful  senti- 
ment had  swept  over  his  face,  and  in  eager 
passionate  accents  he  had  pleaded  with  Miriam 


£30 


PRINCE  HUGO. 


to  assure  him  that  Zarc’s  engagement  to  another, 
— and  to  some  unknown  man, — could  not  be 
true. 

Her  actual  and  practical  experience  of  men  and 
women  being,  however,  limited,  discrimination 
failed  Miriam  just  at  this  point,  and  offered  no 
explanation  to  her  speculative  thoughts,  but  she 
could  not  still  them  : again  and  again  the  curious 
memory  came  at  the  Prince’s  brightest  moments, 
as  during  all  these  days  they  beguiled  the  sunny 
hours  in  company,  and  helped  each  other  plea- 
santly to  gild  with  soft  memories  the  association 
of  each  passing  scene. 

And  it  was  still  with  her — this  haunting  and 
inexplicable  recollection  of  the  Prince’s  face  and 
voice — when  the  very  last  days  came  creeping 
swiftly  upon  them,  and  found  them  in  constant 
intercourse  — all  occupied  still,  in  ripening 
hourly  this  intimacy  and  close  interest  in 
one  another.  Still  drinking  eagerly  of  the 
passing  pleasure,  so  sweet  to  all  of  them, 


OF  MIRIAM. 


237 


and  which  deepened,  and  still  deepened,  the 
strong  and  ineffable  influence,  that  Swiss  fort- 
night was  destined  indeed  to  have,  upon  each 
life. 


CHAPTER  XII. 


ZARE. 

It  was  the  last  evening ! 

The  table  d'hote  was  just  over  at  the  Trois 
Couronnes,  and  the  crowd  of  tourists  and  resi- 
dents at  this  huge  caravan  had  just  streamed  out 
into  the  garden,  or  into  the  billiard-room,  or  down 
towards  the  lake-shore — to  watch  the  lingering 
sunset,  to  smoke,  to  saunter,  to  flirt,  and  to 
otherwise  amuse  themselves  according  to  wont 
and  fancy  for  the  rest  of  the  evening. 

A string  band  had  just  struck  up  a flowing 
suggestive  valse  in  one  corner  of  the  garden,  and 
the  windows  of  the  large  salon,  with  its  glancing 
parquet  floor,  had  been  flung  invitingly  open  at 
the  sound ; while  tables  and  seats  were  pushed 


ZARE. 


239 


back  against  tlie  walls  to  make  room  and  pre- 
paration for  any  m/se-loving  couple  who  might 
feel  inspired. 

It  was  a lovely  sultry  evening,  and  after  the 
long,  hot  day,  passed  in  a scramble  over  the 
vineyard  slopes  to  Monsieur  B.’s  little  chalet  at 
Glion,  and  a pleasant  afternoon  of  music  and 
converse  spent  in  his  pretty  garden  there,  our 
party  were  pleasantly  tired,  a little  languid,  and 
much  disposed  for  retreat  en  tete-cl-tete,  into 
pleasantly  secluded  corners  of  the  garden,  or 
under  the  shelter  of  the  verandah  outside  the 
salon  windows,  within  hearing  of  the  soft  music 
of  the  string  band. 

They  had  dined  together  at  the  big  table 
d'hote,  all,  including  John  Frere,  who  had  come 
to  the  hotel  after  the  day’s  expedition  to  spend 
this  last  evening  with  his  cousin.  The  Prince 
had  been  with  them  all  the  afternoon,  and  they 
had  only  parted  with  him  at  the  steep,  sloping 
corner  above  Clarens,  where  the  pathway  across 


240 


PRINCE  HUGO. 


the  vineyards  from  Glion  turned  upwards  to- 
wards the  Villa  de  la  Joie. 

Several  of  our  particular  party  had  come  to 
anchor  in  a group  together,  immediately  on  their 
exit  with  the  stream  of  people  from  out  the  hot 
dining-room  into  the  evening  air.  Miriam  sat 
dreamily  and  rather  silently  watching  the  still 
night  shadows  creep  over  the  lake,  and  listening 
to  the  pleasant  incessant  ripple  of  Mrs.  Red- 
mond’s voice,  as  she  conducted  her  usual  rather 
one-sided  conversation  with  John.  Harcourt 
lounged  by  Miriam’s  side,  twirling  his  after- 
dinner  cigar  between  his  fingers  in  a meditative 
manner,  as  if  languidly  indifferent  whether  he 
Jit  it  or  not. 

Zare,  clad  in  a soft,  fleecy,  and  fluffy-looking 
raiment,  which  fell  gracefully  round  her  form 
and  threw  up  her  dark  colouring  in  dusky  and 
yet  lustrous  relief,  sat  a little  apart,  having, 
in  an  absent  sort  of  way,  as  if  by  spontaneous 
selection,  taken  a chair  that  stood  a little  distant 


ZARE. 


241 


from  the  rest,  beneath  the  dark  foliage  of  a tall 
branching  shrub.  She  sat  in  an  easy  lounging 
attitude,  leaning  back  in  her  garden  chair,  one 
small  foot  protruding  its  shoe  with  morocco 
pointed  toe  and  glistening  buckle,  her  head 
thrown  slightly  back  upon  the  high  bar  of  her 
chair,  and  her  dark  eyes  wandering  away  over 
the  stretch  of  the  blue,  deepening  summer 
evening  sky,  from  which  the  flush  of  the  sunset 
was  fading  rapidly,  and  where  faint,  silvery  stars 
were  appearing  here  and  there. 

The  night  was  soft,  and  still,  and  soothing,  for 
even  the  buzz  of  many  voices  around  her  was 
subdued  into  a twilight  murmur,  by  the  softening 
influence  of  the  scene  and  hour  ; and  the  sweet 
rhythmic  strains  of  the  band  seemed  in  harmony, 
and  did  by  no  means  jar,  on  the  soft  whispering 
music  of  the  falling  night. 

Zare  sat  and  gazed,  and  floated  quite  away 
on  the  wings  of  soft  fancy  and  mystic  ariel 
dreams,  while  a sweet,  unbidden  smile  played 


VOL.  IX. 


Pw 


242 


FRINGE  HUGO. 


and  quivered  upon  her  lips,  and  a light  of  deep, 
ineffable  happiness,  kindled  and  scintillated  in 
her  shadowed  eyes.  The  long,  dark  lashes  hung 
low  upon  her  cheek,  but  from  beneath  and 
amidst  them  there  shone  out  into  the  darkening 
night,  that  soft  eager  gleam  of  irrepressible 
sweetness,  and  of  unutterable  and  unfathomable 
inward  joy.  For  if  “ the  heart  knoweth  its  own 
bitterness,”  and  if  the  full  anguish  of  its  hidden 
sorrows  must  be  borne  all  unuttered  and  alone, 
so  is  it  also,  that  “ the  stranger  intermeddleth 
not  with  its  joy,”  and  these  are  the  sweetest  of 
all  life’s  chequered  moments  perhaps,  when  the 
soul  sips  all  undisturbed — alone — at  the  rim  of 
a precious  and  silently-cherished  cup,  of  a happi- 
ness still  unrecognised,  still  unanalysed, — still 
only  by  its  delicate  flavour  and  infinite  sweetness, 
even  suspected  or  known.  A happiness  which 
has  not  been  realized,  or,  at  least,  not  in  any 
form,  even  to  oneself,  much  less  to  any  other, 
been  acknowledged  or  declared.  A happiness 


ZARE. 


243 


that  has  no  definite  form  of  existence  yet,  in 
words,  in  description,  or  in  kind.  A bliss  that 
is  all  the  heart’s  own — possessed  quite  alone  in 
the  deep  places  of  its  veiled,  inscrutable,  and 
wondrous  life. 

Such  sweetness  Zare  was  sipping  within  her 
spirit  now,  as  she  floated  away  into  dreams  all 
fair,  formless,  and  undefined  upon  the  mystical 
wings  of  the  twilight,  into  realms  of  ineffable 
delight ; and  it  was  this  unmeasured  swreetness, 
coming  rippling  over  her  spirit,  all  unbidden  and 
unsought,  that  caused  that  tender  smile  to  play 
over  her  softly-parted  lips,  and  brought  that 
light  of  dreamy  joy  into  her  great,  dark  shadowy 
eyes. 

Zare  was  a lovely  picture  of  dawning,  dream- 
ing, slowly  awakening  womanhood — full  of  in- 
finite and  passionate  possibilities  in  the  future  of 
her  young,  ardent  life — as  she  sat  there,  with 
the  twilight  dropping  silently  upon  her,  her  soft, 
lacy  draperies  falling  round  her  reclining  form 


R 2 


244 


FRINGE  HUGO. 


her  eyes  wandering  into  the  dreamy  twilight, 
and  her  lips  parted  with  that  sweet,  tender 
smile. 

And  just  so, — Prince  Hugo  found  her  ! 

He  came  slowly  through  the  evening  shadows, 
between  the  clustering  shrubs  and  the  scented 
flower  beds,  along  the  garden  to  where  they  all 
sat.  He  came  first  upon  Zare,  before  any  of 
them  had  observed  him.  Quite  suddenly  he 
came  upon  her,  while  she  floated  unconsciously 
amid  the  zephyrs  of  her  twilight  dreams. 

He  came  upon  her  and  paused,  drawing  back 
a step  into  the  evening  shadow,  standing  silent 
and  almost  breathless  close  to  the  corner  of  her 
chair ; quite  unobserved  by  her,  and  yet  quite 
near  enough  to  look  full,  and  for  one  moment, 
with  sudden  freedom  of  unveiled  expression, 
upon  her  lovely,  dreaming  face. 

He  looked,  and  his  own  quivered  in  every 
sensitive  nerve  and  feature,  and  became  deadly 
pale.  He  paused,  and  his  deep,  grave  eyes 


ZABE. 


245 


lighted  with  an  eager  and  passionate  joy  for  one 
moment,  and  then  they  closed,  the  lids  falling 
heavily  and  tightly  over  them  as  if  held  shut 
and  fast  sealed,  to  veil  the  eager  expression 
by  the  force  of  his  strong  will.  They  closed, 
and  when  he  opened  them  once  more,  and  stood 
yet  a moment  to  rest  them  longingly  upon  her 
unconscious  face,  the  gleam,  the  eagerness,  the 
joy,  was  quite  gone,  all  quenched  within  their 
earnest  depth,  and  there  remained  only  where 
that  strong,  sweet  light  of  tenderness  had  been, 
the  old  look  which  Miriam  had  seen,  and  which 
had  vibrated  to  her  heart,  and  to  the  deepest 
spring  of  her  sympathies  with  such  irresistible 
power.  The  look  of  pain,  weary,  soul -darkened, 
bitter  pain,  of  lonely,  unutterable  anguish,  of 
pathos  and  suffering,  deep  and  strong  and 
heart-felt,  as  it  was  silent  and  unknown. 

He  put  his  firm  hand  over  his  eyes  then  for 
an  instant,  and  drew  it  slowly  across  his  broad, 
thoughtful  brow,  and  once  more  he  made  that 


246 


PRINCE  HUGO. 


unrelenting  effort  for  self-control.  He  threw  his 
head  up,  and  slowly  uncovered  it.  He  glanced 
once  towards  the  deep  blue,  starlit  sky ; his 
chest  heaved  and  his  lips  quivered,  as  if  “ unshed 
tears  v were  wrung  from  his  inmost  soul ; as  if, 
had  he  been  a woman,  he  would  have  wept 
willingly,  and  poured  forth  his  proudly  stemmed 
and  struggling  anguish, — and  so  granted,  his 
impassioned  heart  relief. 

But  there  was  nothing  that  could  suggest 
relief,  through  indulgence  in  any  such  feeble 
impulse  in  the  expression  of  that  manly  face. 
Suffering  was  there,  deep,  unutterable  suffering, 
but  no  weakness,  and  if  tears  were  wrung  from 
the  heart,  they  were  these  “ unshed  tears,”  of 
which  Byron  has  written  his  thrilling  words. 
Prince  Hugo  remembered  them  as  he  stood 
there,  gazing  a moment  unnoticed,  with  that 
speechless  and  pathetic  longing  in  the  soft  twi- 
light so  near  Zare’s  side. 

As  he  gazed  and  then  glanced  upwards,  and 


ZABE. 


247 


stilled  once  more,  with  noble  force  and  indomit- 
able resolution  the  rush  of  eager  feeling  and 
the  flow  of  his  tender,  passionate  love.  As  he 
quelled  the  storm  within  himself,  and  drove  back 
even  the  rising  weakness  of  self-compassion,  of 
wistful,  self-pitying  regret,  and  of  those  tears  as 
well,  that  would  have  fallen  easily  from  his  heavy 
laden  heart.  Back  they  were  driven  into  his 
hidden  self  again,  and  remained  a part  of  that 
unuttered  anguish,  that  lived  none  the  less 
really,  none  the  less  vehemently,  because  un- 
seen within — 

“ They  are  not  dried — these  tears  unshed, 

But  flow  back  to  their  fountain  head. 

And  resting  in  their  spring  more  pure, 

For  ever  in  its  depth  endure, 

Unseen,  unwept,  but  uncongeal’d, 

And  cherish’d  most,  where  least  reveal’d. ’’ 

A moment  only,  and  she  was  aware  of  him ! 
A moment — the  heaving  of  a half-stifled  sigh,  the 
rustle  of  the  branch  which  his  hand  touched  as 


248 


PRINCE  HUGO. 


he  stretched  it  out,  and  drew  himself  together 
with  a gesture  of  self-control,  some  one  of  these 
slight  unconscious  sounds  had  roused  her. 

She  turned,  and  dreamland  faded  away  from 
her  eyes;  the  bright  gladness  of  reality,  the 
sunlight  of  day  shone  there  instead. 

“ Prince  Hugo.” 

She  rose  to  her  feet  with  one  soft  breathed 
utterance  of  his  name. 

He  said  nothing ; for  an  instant  it  was  more 
than  he  could  do,  to  speak  with  composure  and 
with  control.  He  kept  his  head  uncovered,  his 
grey  cap  in  one  hand, — with  his  right  he  clasped 
hers.  Quickly  and  eagerly  he  clasped  it, — her 
left  hand  which  she  had  extended  slightly  with  a 
gesture  of  glad  surprise.  He  held  it,  and  her 
eyes  in  the  dim  light,  looked  up,  full  and  fearlessly 
into  his  face. 

It  was  all  joy  to  her,  unconscious,  unutterable, 
unsuspecting  joy.  He  was  here  again,  once 
more  among  them,  once  more  in  her  happy 


ZABK 


249 


vision,  once  more  with  courtly  and  gentle  devo- 
tion at  her  side.  She  felt  only  joy,  and  of  its 
cause  she  was  as  unsuspicious  as  a child,  who — 
awakening  all  suddenly  from  its  downy  sleep  and 
untroubled  dreams — meets  with  joy,  and  without 
shadow  of  misgiving,  or  suspicion,  the  sweet  and 
watchful  countenance  of  one,  well  beloved. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 


THE  BOSTON. 

Before  words  had  been  exchanged,  the  rest 
of  the  party  had  observed  the  Prince,  and  with 
exclamations  of  pleasure  and  of  astonishment,  too, 
at  his  unusual  energy  in  coming  down  at  so 
late  an  hour,  they  all  rose  and  made  room  for 
him,  and  for  Zare  also,  to  come  within  their  little 
circle  if  they  wished  to  do  so. 

But  Prince  Hugo  did  not  appear  to  be  quite 
certain  that  he  did  wish  it.  He  returned  Mrs. 
Redmond’s  smile  and  bow  of  greeting,  and 
Miriam’s  bright  glance  of  recognition  and  sur- 
prise, bending  with  head  still  uncovered  before 
the  little  group  of  friends,  and  pausing  as  Zare 
withdrew  her  hand  gently  from  his  clasp,  before 
he  spoke  or  accepted  their  proffered  seat. 


THE  BOSTON. 


251 


“ It  was  such  a lovely  evening,”  he  said, 
presently,  in  a tone  almost  of  apology.  “ I 
could  not  stay  at  home.  I wondered  what  you 
were  all  doing,  and  I remembered  it  was  to  be 
the  last  evening,  and  the  vineyard  pathway  be- 
low the  terrace  tempted  me  in  the  twilight  to 
wander  down.  I told  none  of  them,  for  I was 
out  in  the  garden  alone,  so  I am  amused  when  I 
think  of  De  Yigne  and  Rochsdorf’s  astonishment 
when  they  find  the  terrace  deserted.  I left 
word  at  the  gate,  however,  with  the  old  concierge 
where  I had  gone,  so  after  a minute’s  search 
probably  they  will  trace  me  here.  What  a 
lovely  evening  ! ” 

“ Wonderfully  lovely  ! ” said  Miriam.  “ We 
are  enjoying  its  pleasant  idleness  out  here.” 

“ With  the  accompaniment  of  sweet,  musical 
strains,  too,  I hear.  Really  those  Hungarian 
Wanderers  play  marvellously  well.” 

“ Ho  they  not  ? ” said  Mrs.  Redmond.  “ That 
Waldteufel’s  Yalse  has  been  making  my  toes 


252 


PRINCE  HUGO. 


dance  this  half-hour  back,  and  I have  been 
obliged  to  keep  my  head  carefully  turned  away 
from  the  salon  window,  or  I should  have  yielded 
to  the  temptation  of  going  in  to  join  my  light- 
heeled  compatriots  who  are  footing  it  in  there  ; 
and  I like  to  feel  above  it,  you  know.” 

“ But  why  ? ” said  the  Prince.  “ Chere 
Madame  Redmond,  how  I wish  you  would  come 
in  and  let  us  witness  you  and  one  of  your  ex- 
pert countrymen  performing  in  the  wonderful 
* Boston  ’ together ; that  dance  of  wondrous 
whirl  and  shovel  which  it  defies  a European  to 
execute  with  anything  like  success.  Miss  Ray, 
would  you  not  like  to  see  Mrs.  Redmond  dance 
the  ‘ Boston  ’ to  the  strain  of  that  lovely  ‘Reve 
d’  Amour  ’ \ ” 

“ I should  like  it  immensely,”  said  Miriam. 
“ Do,  Mrs.  Redmond,  and  we  will  all  go  and 
stand  at  the  window  and  look  on.  Please 
do,  it  would  be  so  amusing.  I have  never 
seen  the  ‘ Boston  ’ really  well  danced  in  my 


THE  BOSTON. 


253 


life,  although  there  were  some  people  who  used 
to  aspire  to  its  performance  in  the  salon  at 
Spaalbad.” 

“ Well,  I should  not  mind,”  said  Mrs.  Red- 
mond; “if  Willy  Cathcart  happens  to  be  in  there 
to-night,  he  would  be  my  partner  fast  enough, 
and  if  your  Highness  wishes  it  we  are  bound 
to  take  a turn  around,  just  to  show  you  a bit,  if 
only  for  the  honour  of  the  States.  Mr.  Frere, 
will  you  take  a peep  in  and  see  if  Willie  Cath- 
cart is  there  ? ” 

John  went  off  in  instant  obedience,  and  then 
they  all  turned  and  strolled  together  across  the 
garden  towards  the  large,  brightly-illuminated, 
open  window  of  the  great  salon  ; and  once  there 
they  paused. 

The  scene  within  was  best  witnessed  from 
without,  standing  in  the  soft  darkness  of  the 
summer  night,  with  the  sweet  fragrance  of  the 
flowers  filling  the  air,  and  the  cool  breath  of 
the  evening  soothing  the  spirit  after  the  long 


254 


PRINCE  HUGO. 


heat  of  the  day.  It  was  amusing  to  loiter  and 
laugh  and  exchange  comments  and  criticisms  on 
the  pirouetting  couples  within. 

The  centre  of  the  great  salon  was  cleared  of 
furniture — the  crimson  seats  and  sofas  pushed 
back  against  the  walls, — and  it  was  lit  up  with 
the  lustre  of  a huge  crystal  chandelier  pendant 
from  the  ceiling,  and  by  glittering  ormolu 
candelabra,  held  in  sconces  on  each  side  of  its 
numberless  bright,  glancing  mirrors.  Its  smooth 
and  polished  parquet  floor  glistened  like  a sheet 
of  ice. 

The  salon  was  an  inviting-looking  little  ball- 
room, affording  space  and  opportunity  for  dis- 
play of  Terpsichorean  skill.  But  not  many 
couples,  however,  had  been  lured  in,  as  yet, 
from  the  soft  and  cool  twilight  of  the  garden, 
even  by  the  floating  strains  of  “ La  Rove.” 

Not  many,  but  among  them  was  Willie  Cath- 
cart, — Mrs.  Redmond’s  light-footed  young  com- 
patriot— who,  indeed,  waited  for  no  invitation 


THE  BOSTON. 


255 


or  sign  from  John,  but  came  rushing  forward, 
sliding  across  the  polished  floor  towards  the 
window,  immediately  the  party  from  out  the 
garden  appeared. 

“ Oh,  Mrs.  Redmond,  one  turn.  The  floor  is 
perfect,  and  there  is  such  lots  of  room,  a quarter 
of  an  hour  later,  and  there  will  be  a horrid 
crowd.  Come,  one  turn.” 

“ Well,  it  is  very  tempting,  Willie,  and  it  is 
just  what  they  are  all  entreating  me  to  do,  His 
Highness  himself  especially ; but  this  gown  is 
not  a bit  nice  to  dance  in,  and  my  train  is  miles 
too  long.” 

“ Oh,  I will  manage  the  train,”  said  Willie 
Cathcart,  as  if  this  serious  responsibility  was 
certainly  his,  and  one  which  lie  was  gallantly 
prepared  to  encounter.  “You  come  along,  do?” 
“ Well,  just  a turn  then.” 

And  away  they  went,  spinning  down  the 
length  of  the  long  room,  then  shovelling,  and 
twirling,  and  floating,  and  chasseeing,  back- 


256 


PRINCE  HUGO. 


wards  and  forwards,  to  right  and  to  left,  in 
every  direction  at  once,  as  it  seemed,  and  yet 
firmly,  in  perfect  accord,  and  without  ever  once 
losing  step  or  time. 

It  was  marvellous,  and  universal  acclamations 
of  applause  broke  from  all  sides,  while  one  pair 
of  dancers  after  another,  paused  to  watch  the 
unparalleled  performance,  and  to  envy  with 
despair,  the  uncomparably  dexterous  agility,  of 
this  the  most  skilful  couple  of  valsers  whom 
America  had  sent  to  astound  Europe  that  year. 

Mrs.  Redmond’s  long,  flounced  train  seemed 
no  impediment,  Mr.  Willie  Cathcart  managing 
it  as  he  had  promised  with  admirable  ability ; 
it  went  floating  round  her  just  at  the  right 
angle,  and  if  for  a moment  it  entwined  fast 
about  his  nimble  feet,  it  never  seemed  to  in- 
commode him  in  the  very  least,  but  was  shoved 
dexterously  away,  and  thrown  out  again  to  float 
airily  round  them  with  their  next  rapid  sweep 
and  whirl. 


THE  BOSTON. 


257 


“ Well  done  ! ” laughed  Prince  Hugo,  who 
stood  leaning  against  the  threshold  of  the 
window  watching  them  by  Zare’s  side. 

“ Well  done,  indeed,”  answered  Zare, 

“ What  an  enviable  agility,”  said  John  Frere. 
“ Such  light  heels  must  surely  betoken  very 
light  hearts.” 

“ So  they  do  as  a rule,”  remarked  Harcourt 
Lynton.  “ Light  hearts,  amid  all  variety  and 
adversity  of  life,  is  quite  a characteristic  of  the 
nation.” 

“ They  take  life  as  merrily,”  said  the  Prince, 
“ as  my  Rochsdorf  takes  it  gloomily,  I suspect. 
Well,  it  is  a happy,  national  attribute ; I never 
can  see  myself,  the  good  of  making  the  worst  of 
things.  Well  done,  Madame  Redmond,”  he 
continued,  as  that  gay  little  lady  with  her 
partner  came  suddenly  to  anchor,  quite  near. 
“ Thank  you  very  much,  you  have  given  us  all 
a great  enjoyment,  it  is  a pleasure  to  see  you 
float  so  airily  over  the  ground.” 


YOL.  II. 


S 


25b 


PRINCE  HUGO. 


“ Oil,  it  is  easy  enough  when  you  can  catch 
it  up ; and  then  Willie  Cathcart  is  a skilful 
dancer,”  said  Mrs.  Redmond ; “ he  gets  you 
around  most  beautifully — you  really  don’t  feel 
your  feet  go.  Will  not  any  of  you  ladies  take 
a turn,  or  do  you  never  dance  yourself,  your 
Highness  ? ” 

“ Not  your  wonderful  ‘ Boston,’  ” said  the 

Prince.  “We  have  our  own  style  of  valsing  in 

Germany,  you  know,  though  for  my  own  part 

I like  the  Austrian  step  best.  We  danced  a 

good  deal  at  Vienna,  did  we  not,  Lynton  ? ” 

“ I never  did  much  in  that  line,  sir,  but  I 

remember  your  being  a distinguished  performer 

verv  well.” 

«/ 

“ I think  there  is  nothing  so  graceful  as  the 
Austrian  Valse,”  said  Zare.  “ I learnt  it  once 
from  a Viennese  gentleman  in  Paris,  and  I like 
it  best ; do  you  know,  I have  given  up  dancing 
the  ‘ Boston  ’ ever  since.” 


“ You  like  it  ? ” said  the  Prince.  “ What, 


THE  BOSTON. 


259 


the  smooth  sweeping  Austrian  step  ? Will 
you  take  a turn  with  me  then,  Mademoiselle 
Zare  ? If  Mr.  Cathcart  and  Mrs.  Redmond 
would  begin  again  so  as  not  to  look  on  at  us, 
we  should  not  feel  so  shy.  Go  on  again,  Cath- 
cart, and  we  will  follow  you.  Miss  Ray,  do 
you  not  ever  dance  ? ” 

“ No — at  least,  I have  seldom,  done  so  ; it  is 
not,  as  Mr.  Lynton  says,  in  my  line,”  said 
Miriam;  “but  I shall  watch  you  from  here 
with  pleasure  Prince.  Do  dance,  Zare,  I have 
never  seen  the  Austrian  Valse  anywhere,  as  far 
as  I know.” 

“ Come  then,”  said  Prince  Hugo,  and  in  one 
moment,  with  his  firm,  strong  arm,  he  had 
encircled  Zare’s  waist,  and  they  floated  away 
together,  sweeping  down  the  length  of  the 
bright  room,  sweeping  with  a long,  smooth  step 
and  a slow,  floating  dignity  of  movement  quite 
different  from  the  swift  and  skilful  manoeuvres 
of  Willie  Cathcart  and  the  fair  lady  of  his  race. 


260 


PRINCE  HUGO. 


A flowing  movement,  full  of  rythmic  and  poetic 
grace,  that  suited,  as  a style  of  dancing,  both 
Zare  and  the  Prince,  much  better  than  the 
rapid,  shovelling  twirl  of  the  American  Valse 
would  have  done. 

In  their  way,  the  pair  were  as  graceful  and 
accomplished  performers  as  were  the  other  two, 
and  Miriam,  and  Harcourt  Lynton,  and  John, 
watched  them  also  with  admiration  and  with 
curious  interest  as  well. 

It  was  curious  to  see  the  Prince  dance.  He 
did  it  with  the  same  verve  and  purpose,  and 
sedate  energy  of  enjoyment,  which  he  threw 
into  all  things,  and  at  the  same  time,  with  a 
dignity  of  movement  that  seemed  to  characterize 
him  in  his  style  of  valsing,  as  much,  if  not  more, 
than  in  anything  else  they  had  seen  him  do. 

“ What  a graceful,  handsome  fellow  he  is,” 
murmured  John,  as  they  stood,  still  out  in  the 
twilight  of  the  garden,  and  looked  into  the 
brightly-lit  salon.  “ How  well  he  does  every- 


TEE  BOSTON. 


261 


thing,  that  he  ever  allows  himself  to  do,  even  a 
slight  thing  like  this.  One  might  have  felt- 
sure  that  he  valsed  better  than  most  men,  or 
he  would  not  have  stood  up  to  do  it.” 

“ Yes,”  said  Miriam,  with  enthusiasm,  “ there 
is  something  about  him,  that  challenges  one’s 
admiration  at  every  turn  in  the  most  curious 
way.  I always  find  myself  liking  him  afresh, 
all  over  again,  as  it  were,  for  some  new  reason, 
nearly  every  day.  I like  to  see  him  sweep 
round  with  that  grand-looking  movement,  do 
-jot  you  ? He  looks  so  powerful  and  so  amus- 
ingly in  earnest,  and  yet  so  eager  and  full  of 
enjoyment  and  life.” 

“ And  Mademoiselle  Zare’s  dancing,”  said 
Harcourt,  “ is  as  harmonious  with  herself,  too, 
as  everything  she  does — or  sings.  It  is  like  a 
perfectly  complete  and  melodious  poem,  to  see 
them  float  round  together.  Dear  me,  shall  we 
ever  wear  out  the  faculty,  I wonder,  of  imbibing 
fresh  sensations  of  interest  and  amusement  from 


202 


PRINCE  HUGO. 


these  foreigners  and  their  diversified  ways  ? 
Why  do  we  not  feel  the  spirit  move  us  now 
to  go  pirouetting  ‘ around,’  as  Mrs.  Redmond 
says  ? ” 

“ Because  our  education  was  neglected  in 
our  early  youth,  I presume,”  said  John.  “ I 
do  not  know  why,  but  I never  did  take  to 
dancing.” 

“ Nor  I either,”  said  Miriam.  “ But  I 
imagine  I was  just  coming  to  my  dancing  days 
long  ago,  when  you  all  left  me,  and  I had  no 
one  to  dance  with.  So,  somehow,  I never  took 
to  it  later ; there  was  little  temptation  to  the 
acquirement  of  the  art  in  the  balls  which  we 
have  occasionally  frequented  in  London,  in  these 
latter  years.” 

“ It  gets  into  one’s  blood  here  though,  some- 
how,” said  John.  “ That  sweep  and  flow  of 
the  step  and  music,  and  one  expects  to  be  at  it 
some  day  before  one  has  done.  Lynton,  why 
did  not  you  learn  to  foot  it  with  the  rest  ? ” 


THE  BOSTON. 


263 


“ Oh,  I used  to  dance  sometimes  when  I was 
an  attache  ,”  said  Harcourt,  languidly.  “ But  I 
never  thought  it,  even  at  a ball,  the  best  part  of 
the  affair.  I preferred  a nice,  quiet  corner  with 
a pleasant  companion,  even  in  those  days.  Now, 
I will  valse,  if  Miss  Ray  will  valse  with  me ; 
but — if  it  is  all  the  same  to  her — I think  it  is 
much  pleasanter  out  here.” 

“ I think  so,  too,  most  certainly,”  laughed 
Miriam.  “ What  a lovely  evening  it  is,  and 
in  there  it  is  as  hot  and  airless  as  possible 
already.” 

“ Yes,  and  what  a disgusting  glare  of  light,” 
said  Harcourt.  “ Look,  look  round  a moment, 
what  a lovely  gleam  is  coming  up  over  the  lake. 
The  moon  will  rise  in  a moment.  I never  saw 
* Leman  ’ look  more  bewitching ; what  an 
exquisite  light  is  creeping  over  the  distant 
scene.” 

“ Yes,  and — ah  ! they  have  stopped  dancing — 
the  Prince  and  Zare,  I mean,”  said  Miriam;  “ so 


264 


PEINGE  HUGO. 


now  I will  not  look  into  that  hot,  glaring 
room  any  more,  it  is  an  insult  to  the  beauty 
outside.  Ah,  Zare,  are  you  tired,  dear  ? I 
think  I should  often  be  tempted  on  to  that 
perilous-looking,  icy  floor  if  I were  as  sure  of 
my  footing  as  Prince  Hugo  and  you  are.” 

“ I very  seldom  dance,”  said  Zare,  passing 
out  through  the  window  to  stand  by  Miriam 
with  Prince  Hugo,  and  still  leaning  upon  his 
arm.  “ I very  seldom  dance,  indeed.” 

“ And  I never  dance,”  said  the  Prince,  laugh- 
ing, “ but  that  was  a delightful  turn.” 

“ How  delicious  is  the  cool  air,”  said  Zare. 
“ How  hot  it  is  in  the  salon  already  ! ” 

“ Yes,  how  delicious,  indeed,”  said  the  Prince. 
“ Valsing  and  everything  taken  into  account,  I 
think  it  was  foolish  to  desert  the  garden, 
especially  as  we  have,  at  least,  the  music  there, 
and  besides,  do  you  know,  Mesdemoiselles,”  he 
continued,  turning  both  to  Zare  and  Miriam, 
with  his  bright,  winning  smile,  “ it  was  not  in 


THE  BOSTON. 


265 


the  least  for  dancing,  that  I was  tempted  to 
come  down  to  you  this  evening,  hut  from  quite 
another  idea,  one  which  this  lovely,  soft  air  and 
the  blue  glory  of  that  expanse  of  water  brings 
back  to  my  mind.  May  I suggest  it  now  ? ” 

He  was  looking  at  Miriam ; she  bent  her  head 
slightly,  and  smiled  her  ready  eagerness  to  hear 
what  he  would  say. 

“ This  is  your  last  evening  on  the  shores  of 
Geneva,  Miss  Ray,  and  the  last  evening  we 
shall  be  all  together,  and  there  is  one  thing 
which  we  have  never  done  together  yet.  By 
day  and  in  twilight  shades,  we  have  done 
nearly  everything  in  this  last  bright  fortnight 
that  there  is  here  to  do.  Only  one  thing  remains. 
Will  you  do  it  with  me  to-night  ? ” 

“ And  what  is  that,  Prince  Hugo  ? ” 

“ What,  you  will  not  promise  until  you 
know,  prudent  young  English  lady  ? Well, 
you  shall  know,  and  then,  I hope,  be  tempted. 
Will  you  come  out  with  me  in  my  little  boat 


266 


PRINCE  HUGO. 


oji  the  lake  now,  by  moonlight,  for  see,  we 
shall  have  a radiance  of  the  autumn  moon 
flooding  the  whole,  glorious  view  in  a few 
minutes  ? ” 

“ Out  on  the  lake  to-night,  Prince ! ” ex- 
claimed Miriam. 

“ Why  not  P ” he  said. 

44  Oh,  I think  it  would  be  perfection,”  mur- 
mured Zare. 

44  Quite  charming  ! ” exclaimed  Mrs.  Red- 
mond, who  stood  also  now  close  by  the  window, 
and  heard  the  Prince’s  suggestion.  44  Quite 
charming  ! Oh,  do  let  us  go,  it  will  be  all  right, 
Miss  Ray ; you  know  I can  4 matronize  ’ both 
you  and  Zare.” 

44  Come  then,”  said  the  Prince.  44Is  it  agreed? 
My  boat  is  lying  just  below  the  garden  ; I told 
the  men  before  dinner  to  come  round.” 

44 1 wonder  if  my  mother  would  mind,”  said 
Miriam.  44 1 think  it  sounds  very  delicious. 
Let  me  go  and  tell  her  of  your  proposition, 


THE  BOSTON. 


267 


Prince,  and  we  shall  see  if  she  has  any  objec- 
tions to  make.” 

Mrs.  Debugines  made  no  objection,  nor  was 
she  likely  to  make  one  to  any  suggestion  coming 
from  so  lofty  a source.  She  was  seated  happily 
in  one  corner  of  the  verandah,  surrounded  by  a 
brilliant  concourse  of  the  most  aristocratic  in- 
mates of  the  hotel,  and  she  was  contented  that 
Miriam  should  go,  wherever  the  Prince  might 
please  to  take  her  ! Por  surely  the  fact,  author- 
ized Mrs.  Debugines  in  talking,  with  pleasant 
familiarity,  of  His  Highness  and  his  doings  for 
the  rest  of  the  evening,  seeing  that  her  daughter 
and  favourite  nephew  were  of  his  select  and 
special  party  in  his  little  boat ! 


CHAPTER  XIV. 


THE  TURQUOISE. 

Prince  Hugo’s  boat  was  a small  one,  but 
pretty  and  trim  and  well  rigged  for  a voyage  over 
the  blue  rippling  surface  of  Lake  Leman.  With 
snowy  sail,  and  trio  of  smartly  attired  mariners, 
and  rows  of  crimson  seats ; with  a mast  rising 
slim  and  tall  in  the  centre,  which  divided  the 
large  circle  of  places  for  guests  and  voyagers  at 
the  stern,  from  a small  compact  seat  just' sufficient 
for  two  people,  that  the  Prince  always  chose  for 
himself  near  the  prow.  From  there  he  could 
watch  the  wave  and  ripple  of  the  lake,  as  the 
sharp  boat’s  point  cut  a silvery  course  through 
the  blue  water,  and  could  stand  upright  and 
watch  the  coming  waves  on  the  smooth  broad 
glistening  expanse,  as  the  boat  dived  and  rocked 


TIIE  TURQUOISE. 


269' 


and  rode  gaily  on,  and  danced  lightly  over  the 
heaving  blue  bosom  of  the  lake,  and  darted 
forward  through  the  frothy  mist  thrown  up  on 
the  tracks  of  its  own  swift  eager  way. 

When  the  fancy  for  boating  was  upon  him,  it 
enthralled  Prince  Hugo  with  the  same  force  of 
attraction,  which  all  other  manly  active  pursuits 
had  for  him  successively  from  time  to  time.  As 
he  loved  the  mountain  and  the  glacier  solitudes, 
and  the  lonely  forest  shades,  so  he  loved,  at  other 
times,  the  blue  broad  waters,  and  the  curving 
bays,  and  the  dancing  billows,  and  the  bracing 
fresh  invigorating  air  of  Lake  Leman,  whether 
she  smiled  before  his  eager  eyes  in  summer  soft- 
ness and  in  glad  sunshine  beauty,  or  as  she  rose 
and  rocked  his  little  skiff  tempestuously  beneath 
the  rough  caress  of  the  Bise,  or  the  angry  and  swift 
rising  Sou-wester,  that  came  sweeping  down  the 
mountain  vales. 

He  loved  it  in  all  its  variety,  and  in  every 
changeful  mood,  from  smile  to  frown. 


270 


PRINCE  HUGO. 


And  as  a boatman,  lie  was  courageous  too — 
to  rashness,  as  many  who  had  watched  the  fragile 
Turquoise  fight  the  early  autumn  tempest  knew. 
And  many  had  watched  him  anxiously,  for  he 
often  stole  off  from  them  all  to  his  boat  as  he 
had  done  now  without  a word  to  apprise  them 
at  the  villa  as  to  where  and  how  he  meant  to 
pass  the  early  hours  of  the  coming  night. 

And  he  staid  often  through  a storm  in  his  tiny 
boat  till  past  daybreak,  while  De  Vigne,  Searlati, 
and  Rochsdorf,  with  an  anxious  group  of  his 
affrighted  servants,  watched  him  from  the  terrace, 
or  from  the  piers  along  the  shore. 

He  had  no  intention  of  staying  out  till  day- 
break, now,  however,  having  inveigled  his  Prima 
Donna  and  his  favourite  young  English  lady- 
friend  into  the  gay  little  Turquoise  as  his  com- 
panions to-night.  He  would  only,  he  thought, 
take  them  skimming  across  the  smooth  blue 
water  towards  Meillerie,  through  the  soft  sweet 
air,  just  to  breathe  that  “living  fragrance  from 


THE  TURQUOISE. 


271 


the  shore,”  blowing  on  the  gentle  wings  of  the 
night  winds  and  just  to  see  that  wonderful 
moonlit  view  of — 

“ The  margin  and  the  mountains  dark,  yet  clear, 
Mellowed  and  mingling,  yet  distinctly  seen.” 


The  lines  were  murmured  by  John  Frere  as 
they  one  by  one  stepped  from  the  little  pier  oil 
to  the  dancing  boat,  and  took  each  their  seats  on 
the  red  cushioned  benches  as  indicated  for  them 
by  the  Prince. 

Purposely  it  would  seem,  that  he  detained 
Zare  La-Gonidet,  beside  him  on  the  pier  until  the 
very  last,  for,  it  appeared  then,  unexpectedly, 
that  at  one  end  the  little  boat  was  full.  He  was 
obliged  quite  naturally,  to  suggest  her  passing 
with  him  to  the  prow’s  point,  and  occupying 
there  by  him,  for  the  moonlight  voyage,  the 
small  place — just  fitted  for  two  at  that  end. 
Nothing  seemed  more  natural.  He  held  her 
firmly  but  lightly,  and  courteously  by  the  hand. 


272 


PRINCE  HUGO. 


and,  as  the  three  sailors  in  their  blue  jerseys  and 
red  woollen  caps  bent  over  the  gunwale,  and 
held  the  little  rocking  boat  close  to  the  pier, 
the  Prince  conducted  Zare  by  slow  and  wary 
footsteps,  and  with  many  a deft  and  skilful 
spring,  round  the  corner  of  the  tall  mast,  over 
ropes  and  benches  and  long  tidily-shipped  oars, 
to  that  cushioned  and  inviting-looking  corner 
just  behind  the  gilded  and  turquoise-crowned 
figure-head  at  the  boat’s  point. 

She  laughed  low  and  happily,  as  he  seated  her 
with  care  and  gentle  solicitude,  and  remained 
standing  a moment  at  her  side. 

“ Loose  off!  ” he  exclaimed  in  a curious  patois 
to  his  sailors,  and  the  little  vessel  slipped  silently 
away  from  the  pier. 

“ Unship  the  oars,  let  us  row  a while,”  he 
continued  ; “ we  can  put  up  the  sail  when  we  get 
out  into  the  breeze.” 

Deftly  they  unslung  the  long  slim  oars, 
swiftly  they  were  fixed  in  their  grooves  by  two 


THE  TUBQUOISE. 


273 


of  the  sailors,  while  the  third  made  his  way 
scrambling  along  the  edge  with  the  agility  of  a 
monkey  and  with  many  apologies  to  Miriam,  as 
he  crept  behind  her  shoulders,  to  the  rudder. 

Softly  now,  there  fell  the  music  of  the  rippling 
water  struck  by  the  two  long  oars,  and  cut  by 
the  swift,  forward  spring  of  the  sharp  keel,  and 
then,  they  paused  a moment,  glancing  towards 
the  Prince  for  orders.  They  paused  and  gently 
to  and  fro  rocked  the  little  boat  across  the 
broad  dancing  ray  of  the  silver  moonlight  and 
while,  on  the  ear, 

“ Dropped  the  light  drop  of  the  suspended  oar,” 

there  seemed  to  fall  around  them  with  a 
strange  mystical  silence  and  with  soft  soothing 
power,  all  the  deep  wondrous  beauty  of  the 
night. 

“ Towards  Meillerie,”  said  the  Prince  shortly  ; 
and  instantly  the  oars  dipped  again,  the  boat’s 
prow  spun  round,  and  they  shot  out  straight 


VOL.  II. 


T 


274 


FRINCE  HUGO. 


towards  tlie  lake’s  centre,  across  the  blue  moonlit 
expanse. 

It  was  very  delicious,  the  stillness,  the  fragrance 
of  the  fresh  cool  air,  the  rippling  music  beneath 
the  swift  dancing  keel,  the  drop  of  the  steady 
oars  upon  the  water,  and  the  glory  of  the  open- 
ing lake  view. 

There,  was  the  towering  circlet  of  the  snow- 
capped mountains  in  the  distance,  and  the 
shadowy  and  rocky  crevices  with  their  dark  pine 
fringes  rising  in  the  nearer  view.  There  was  the 
soft  sweep  of  the  banks  towards  the  lower  end, 
verdant  and  vine-clad,  and  then  the  majestic 
precipitous  rocks  of  the  higher  slopes  beyond 
Clarens,  stretching  away  towards  the  Gorge  of 
the  Rhone,  and  the  distant  Yalais  Alps. 

The  limpid  moonlight,  the  lake’s  soft  sheen, 
the  wavy  ripple,  and  the  broad  unbroken  ex- 
panse, all  were  lovely  with  a deep  and  bewitch- 
ing loveliness  that  seemed  to  enthral  the  soul. 

Scarcely  a word  was  exchanged  till  they  were 


THE  TURQUOISE. 


275 


well  out,  dancing  over  the  water  quite  away 
from  shore.  Then  “The  sail,”  Prince  Hugo 
said,  and  the  little  boat  heaved  and  rocked  again 
upon  the  dark  deep  water,  while  the  men 
shipped  their  oars,  sprang  forward,  and  with 
light  rapid  movements  and  well  accustomed 
skill,  unfurled  the  snowy  sheet,  and  let  it  float 
forth  in  the  moonlight,  like  a huge  graceful 
white-winged  bird  before  the  rising  breeze. 

“ This  quiet  sail  is  as  a noiseless  icing  to 
waft  me  from  distraction murmured  Prince 
Hugo  in  a low  voice,  as  he  took  his  place  now 
by  Zare’s  side.  “ There  is  a charming  light 
wind  coming  up  the  lake,  I see.  I think  we  shall 
make  a successful  tack.” 

And  tack  they  did,  backwards  and  forwards 
across  the  moonbeams,  and  over  the  blue  bosom 
of  the  lake,  dancing  and  rippling  gaily  along 
while  murmurs  of  pleasant  talk  in  duets,  and 
trios,  went  on  continuously,  and  many  respon- 
sive acclamations  of  admiration  and  delight  were 


276 


PRINCE  HUGO. 


again  and  again  echoed  across  the  water,  and 
from  side  to  side  of  the  bright  little  boat  as  they 
sailed  along  without  weariness  or  interruption. 

The  duet  at  the  prow’s  point  was  heard  by 
none  but  the  two  speakers  therein  engaged  how- 
ever, and  it  was  doubtless  none  the  less  pleasant, 
from  this  unavoidable  fact.  None  the  less 
pleasant,  certainly — although,  for  the  first  hour 
of  their  moonlight  sail,  every  member  of  the 
party,  or  indeed  the  whole  huge  table  ahdte  of 
the  Trois  Couronnes  Hotel  might  have  listened 
to  every  one  of  the  sotto  voce  remarks  that 
passed  between  Zare  and  the  Prince,  without 
experiencing  one  single  thrill  of  astonishment, 
or  decorous  deprecation  at  what  they  heard. 

Por  the  first  hour,  their  converse  was  pleasant, 
and  quite  untroubled  by  any  threatening  of 
special  sentiment  on  either  side. 

Yet  that  first  hour  was  very  charming  to 
both.  For,  in  such  circumstances  of  easy  undis- 
turbed intercourse  between  them,  Zare  for  her 


THE  TURQUOISE. 


277 


part  found  always  a quite  unalloyed  delight ; 
and  Prince  Hugo  too,  beneath  the  influence  so 
intensely  sympathetic  to  him,  of  her  soft  enthusi- 
astic manner  and  bright  fearless  glance  and 
sweet  frequent  smiles,  gained  always,  as  they 
talked  together,  an  ease  with  himself  and  his 
rebellious  inward  feelings  for  her — an  ease 
and  undisturbed  pleasure  in  intercourse,  that 
evinced,  more  than  anything  else  could  do,  the 
perfection  of  their  rapport  and  suitability  to  one 
another. 

Such  moonlit  scenes  and  hours,  linger  softly 
sometimes  in  the  memory  through  years  of  after 
darkness  and  storm.  Of  such  an  hour  writes 
Alaric  Watts: 

“ JTwas  Summer  Eve — the  heavens  above, 

Earth,  ocean,  air,  were  full  of  love  ; 

I bent,  and  murmuring,  vowed  to  be 
The  soul  of  love  and  truth  to  thee. 

“ The  scene  and  hour  have  passed,  yet  still 
Eemains  a deep,  impassioned  thrill — 

A sunset  glow  on  memory, 

That  kindles  at  each  thought  of  thee.” 


CHAPTER  XV. 


A GALE. 

They  were  far  away  across  the  lake’s  blue 
expanse,  near  the  Rocks  of  Meillerie,  and  were 
sweeping  and  bending  their  boat’s  prow  again 
towards  the  other  side — when  from  the  little 
church-tower  of  St.  Gingolph  there  rang  out, 
with  deep,  musical  chimes,  into  the  moonlight, 
the  midnight  hour.  And  at  that  moment — as 
they  all  silently  listened,  and  then  broke  into 
a light  laugh  and  echoed  exclamations  to  one 
another  over  the  lateness  of  the  hour — there 
swept  suddenly  across  their  faces  a cold  swift 
blast.  It  rustled  noisily  among  the  ropes  and 
upper  rigging  of  the  tall  mast,  and  caused  the 
wide  white  sail  to  flutter  restlessly,  With  a 
curious  uneasy  quiver,  shaking  it  from  end  to 


A GALE. 


27!) 


end.  More  than  ever  it  appeared  just  then,  like 
a huge,  white  bird,  pausing  in  its  flight,  and 
trembling  with  quick  drooping  plumage  as  a 
shot  reached  its  light,  buoyant  heart,  striking 
the  eager  life  within  at  its  very  fountain,  even 
while  the  bird  floated  still  upon  its  outspread 
wings. 

“ Diable,”  exclaimed  the  sailor  at  the  rudder  ; 
and  with  a rapid  movement  of  his  strong  guiding 
hand  he  altered  the  course  of  the  little,  rocking 
boat.  “ Diable ! ” and  a rush  of  hasty  patois 
came  pouring  from  his  lips,  with  many  eager 
gesticulations,  as  he  shouted  to  his  comrades  and 
grasped  the  rudder  fast  with  both  his  firm, 
sinewy  hands. 

A squall  was  coming  down  the  Rhone  Valley ! 
and  it  was  sweeping  round  them  in  a noisy 
hurricane  before  they  had  understood  or  realised. 

Prince  Hugo’s  cheek  grew  pale.  John  Prere 
exclaimed  under  his  breath  something  quite 
unheard.  Miriam  sat  up  and  grasped  the 


280 


PRINCE  HUGO. 


boat’s  side  tightly  with  one  hand  in  silence,  and 
then  turned  her  face  round  calm  and  fearless,  to 
meet  the  fierce  breath  of  the  wind. 

“ We  are  in  for  it,”  said  Harcourt,  composed 
and  languid  as  usual,  but  with  a quick,  curious 
glance,  as  he  spoke,  into  Miriam’s  face. 

He  sat  up,  too,  from  his  lounging  position, 
fastened  his  coat  across  his  chest,  as  the  wind 
swept  down  upon  them ; and  then,  as  she  had 
done,  he  calmly  contemplated  the  coming  storm. 

Mrs.  Redmond  shivered  and  shut  her  eyes  ; 
but  the  reality  of  their  instant  danger  had  not 
penetrated  to  her  mind.  She  shivered,  for  it 
was  suddenly  cold,  and  a gusty  current  whirled 
through  the  air  above  their  heads,  where  the 
sharp,  delicate  point  of  the  tall  mast  seemed  to 
cut  the  sky.  She  gathered  her  cloak  tightly 
around  her,  and  exclaimed,  “ There  is  going  to 
be  a storm,  I believe.  How  I wish  we  were 
nearer  home.” 

And — a storm  there  was ! One  of  those 


A GALE. 


281 


sudden,  quick,  rising  tempests  that  with  squall, 
and  rocking  waters,  and  thunder  peal,  and  swift 
lightning  flash,  spring  up  without  warning  or 
notice  on  these  inland  mountain  lakes.  The 
sultry  heat  of  the  day  had  foreshadowed  thunder, 
which  came  almost  nightly  indeed,  rolling  over 
the  slopes  of  the  mountains  and  across  the  high, 
distant  peaks.  They  had  quite  expected  thunder, 
but  the  hurricane  had  crept  down  the  valley 
and  broke  forth  upon  them  over  the  lake — its 
approach  unheeded,  but  its  aspect  none  the  less, 
vehement  and  alarming. 

The  little  boat  rocked  and  danced,  tossed  to 
and  fro  like  a floating  feather  upon  the  waves’ 
wild  crest.  The  rigging  rattled  and  the  white 
sail  fluttered  and  trembled,  and  swayed  them 
low  towards  the  water  before  the  sailors  could 
gather  it  in.  For,  some  ropes  snapped  instantly, 
with  the  sudden  strength  of  the  tempest,  and 
the  furling  of  the  sail  was  difficult  (almost  an 
impossibility)  to  the  two  men  who  stood  upright 


282 


PRINCE  HUGO. 


on  the  little  piece  of  rocking  deck,  clinging 
eagerly  to  the  mast  with  both  arms  and  hands. 

“ Furl,  for  God’s  sake,”  cried  the  Prince. 
But  the  rope  had  broken,  and  the  little  pulley 
escaped  beyond  their  reach.  The  sail,  stretched 
before  the  squall,  again  filled  and  shook  with 
fierce,  rustling  sound,  and  away  spun  the  boat, 
carried  forcibly  before  winds  and  waves  and 
strong,  eddying  currents ; rising  at  one  instant 
on  the  top  of  the  billow’s  silvery  crest,  and 
diving  the  next  into  the  heaving  gulf  between. 
Booking  and  dancing  recklessly  on,  quite  beyond 
control  of  oar  or  rudder,  and  driving  straight 
across  the  lake  towards  the  rocks  below 
St.  Saphorut.  Prince  Hugo  steadied  himself 
and  stood  upright  an  instant,  clinging  also  by 
the  slim  mast,  and  gazing  eagerly  from  side  to 
side.  He  was  pale  as  white  marble,  and  the 
features  of  his  grave  face  almost  as  immovable. 
He  looked  from  slope  to  slope  on  the  lake’s  side, 
and  up  and  down  the  large  expanse  of  water. 


A GALE. 


283 


What  a change  in  a few  swift  passing  minutes  ! 
and — in  spite  of  everything — what  a grand,  what 
a soul-stirring  change  ! 


“ Oh  Night ! 

And  storms  and  darkness,  ye  are  wondrous  strong. 
Yet  lovely  in  your  strength  as  is  the  light 
Of  a dark  eye  in  woman.” 


“ Wondrous  strong.”  It  was  all  there  upon 
them  now,  whirling  through  the  rigging,  sway- 
ing the  tall  mast,  shaking  the  wide,  white  sail 
like  an  aspen  leaf,  tossing  the  little  boat  like  a 
toy.  All  upon  them,  and  great  flashes  of  light- 
ning lit  up  the  lake  from  end  to  end. 

“ Far  along 

From  peak  to  peak  the  rattling  crags  among, 

Leaped  the  live  thunder.  Not  from  cloud  alone, 

But  every  mountain  now  had  found  a tongue, 

And  Jura  answered  through  her  misty  shroud 
Back  to  the  joyous  Alps,  who  called  to  her  aloud.” 


Many  and  many  a time  before  now  had  the 
Prince  been  out  upon  the  lake’s  wild  bosom 
during  such  a storm.  Many  a time  had  he 


284 


PRINCE  HUGO. 


stood  up  as  now  and  faced  the  tempest, 
and  watched  the  great,  heaving,  and  breaking 
waves,  and  felt  the  cool  spray  dash  upon  his 
uncovered  head,  as  the  Turquoise  drove  her 
gallant  course  among  the  waves.  Many  a time 
he  had  stood  and  murmured  to  himself,  at  such 
an  hour  and  scene,  all  those  wondrous  lines 
which  his  specially  favourite  poet  has  written  on 
a night  storm  on  Lake  Leman. 

“ And  this  is  night  ! Most  glorious  night  ! 

Thou  wert  not  sent  for  slumber  ! let  me  be 
A sharer  in  thy  fierce  and  far  delight, 

A portion  of  the  tempest  and  of  thee  ! ” 

And  even  now — though  his  cheek  blanched 
as  he  stood  up,  and  as  he  realised  the  position 
and  its  possibilities — the  actual  danger  in  the 
midst  of  which  the  fragile  Turquoise  with  its 
precious  freight  was  tossed  and  swayed  ; though 
his  cheek  paled  and  his  brow  was  grave  with 
anxiety — yet  the  wild  glory  of  the  scene,  the 
infinite  majesty  of  this  fierce  storm,  swept  over 


A GALE. 


285 


him  again  for  a moment,  and  made  his  cheek 
flush  and  his  eyes  sparkle  as  he  stood. 

The  helmsman  was  fighting  bravely  with  the 
lake’s  current,  and  keeping  the  little  tossing 
vessel  wonderfully  steady  upon  her  course.  And 
gallantly  she  rode  the  waves  and  topped  the 
foam-crests,  or  dipped  into  their  chasms  and 
rose  proudly  again. 

There  was  nothing  for  it  but  to  sit  still,  firm, 
and  courageous,  and  to  await  results. 

Nothing  for  it  but  to  let  the  boat  sweep  like 
a sea-gull  on  the  wing,  before  the  rocking  wind. 

Nothing  for  it  but  to  grasp  firm  the  helm, 
and  struggle  with  the  counter  currents,  and  do 
all  that  in  them  lay  to  escape  and  round  the 
rocks  running  out,  below  St.  Saphorut,  and  to 
make  safely  the  little  harbour  beyond. 

Nothing  for  them  all  to  do  but  to  sit  still,  and 
watch  the  thunder  roll  from  crag  to  crag,  and  the 
lightning  dance  over  the  lake,  flashing  wonderful 
and  beautiful  with  strange  phosphoric  gleam. 


286 


PRINCE  HUGO. 


Nothing  to  be  done  save  sit  calm  and  still, 
test  one’s  courage  and  composure,  and  imbibe 
that  wild  mystical  irresistible  delight,  which,  in 
spite  of  everything,  came  to  them  from  the 
majestic  storm. 

The  lines  of  his  favourite  poet  were  still  ring- 
ing weirdly  and  irrepressibly  in  Prince  Hugo’s 
mind,  as  he  once  more  took  his  seat  by  Zare  and 
met  the  full,  spirited  and  courageous  glance  of 
her  dark  eyes. 

The  lines  rang  in  his  brain,  as  some  un- 
bidden quotation  does  rise  sometimes,  and  will 
ring  and  ring  in  the  mind,  in  utter  defiance 
of  other  thoughts — more  naturally  consequent 
upon  the  situation. 

He  met  her  glance,  and  it  was  full  and  com- 
posed, and  it  lighted  up  so  readily  to  answer  the 
gleam  of  ardour  and  enthusiasm  that  in  such  a 
scene  flashed  irrepressibly  from  his,  that,  as  their 
gaze  met  and  mingled,  he  continued  his  thought, 
and  recurring  memory  aloud. 


A GALE. 


287 


In  a low  soft  voice  he  murmured,  with  his 

eager  wistful  eyes  wandering  over  her  face, — 

• 

“ Sky,  mountains,  river,  winds,  lake,  lightnings  ! ye  ! 

With  night,  and  clouds,  and  thunder,  and  a soul 
To  make  these  felt,  and  feeling,  well  may  be 
Things  that  have  made  me  watchful ; the  far  swell 
Of  your  departing  voices  is  the  knell 
Of  what  in  me  is  sleepless, — if  I rest. 

But  what  of  ye,  oh  tempest ! is  the  goal  1 
Are  ye  like  those  within  the  human  breast — ? 

Or  do  ye  find  at  length,  like  eagles,  some  high  nest  V9 

“ Will  you  forgive  me,”  he  added,  “ that  I 
have  brought  you  into  all  this  ? Zare,  are  you 
much  afraid  ? ” 

“I  like  it,”  said  Zare  tremulously,  but  not 
from  a tremor  of  fear,  but  because  the  gaze  bent 
on  her  now  was  so  laden  with  deep  feeling,  so 
wistful,  so  eager,  so  regretful,  so  strange,  that 
it  seemed  to  unnerve  her,  as  no  tempest  of  wind, 
or  fear  of  rocking-billow’s  force  could  do.  It 
unnerved  her. 

“ You  are  afraid,”  he  said,  and  he  put  out  his 
hand  and  touched  hers  for  a moment.  “ You 


288 


PRINCE  HUGO. 


are  trembling,”  he  said.  “ Zare,  will  you  not  for- 
give me  ? I did  not  mean  to  bring  you  into  this.” 
“ I said  I liked  it,”  said  Zare. 

“ It  will  not  last  long,”  said  the  Prince,  in  a 
curious  deep  tone.  “We  are  very  near  the 
promontory  of  the  Bay  of  St.  Saphorut  now.” 

“ And  then  ? ” said  Zare. 

He  paused,  and  his  eyes  again  rested  wistfully 
on  hers. 

“ Then  we  may  beat  round  and  gain  the 
pier  in  safety,”  he  answered.  “ You  are  cold, 
let  me  wrap  you  in  this,”  and  he  drew  off 
his  overcoat,  as  he  spoke,  and  in  spite  of  her 
remonstrances  and  opposition  wrapt  it  close 
round  her  shoulders,  and  sat  himself  down  again 
lower,  under  the  shelter  of  the  mast. 

“ We  cannot  make  them  hear  at  the  other 
end  now,”  he  said,  “and  it  would  only  add  to 
our  risk  if  I were  to  try  to  get  within  reach  of 
their  ear.  But  Carlo  is  at  the  helm,  and  he  will 
explain  to  Prere,  who  can  understand  their 


A GALE. 


289 


patois , exactly  how  the  thing  stands.  It  is  a 
question  of  rounding  the  rocks,  you  know,”  he 
added,  “ without  touching  any  of  the  hidden 
ones ; we  can  trust  Carlo,  I think,  to  do  it.” 

They  were  silent  a moment  then,  listening  to 
the  heavy  roll  of  the  thunder  above  their  heads 
and  away  over  the  mountain  crests  ; to  the  rustle 
of  the  sail  and  rigging,  to  the  dash  of  the  waves 
around  them,  and  to  the  whirl  of  the  wind. 

It  was  a wild  and  bewitching  scene,  and  it 
was  a strange  weird  solitude  in  which  they  sat 
and  watched  the  tempest,  and  awaited  destiny 
there,  in  the  little  ship’s  bow,  side  by  side. 

They  had  never  seemed  so  utterly  alone,  with 
fate  and  its  unfettered  will  before, — utterly 
alone,  for  it  was  impossible  to  reach  or  hear  the 
others.  Alone — and  if  to  be  swamped,  to  be 
drawn  into  the  deep  hungry  waves  at  last, — to 
close  their  strange  life’s  chequered  history  there 
together, — and  alone.  A curious  fierce  ex- 
citement kindled  and  smouldered  in  the  grave 


vol.  n. 


V 


290 


PRINCE  HUGO. 


depth  of  the  Prince’s  eyes,  now,  as  they  sat  and 
watched  in  silence. 

“ I like  it,”  Zare  hacf  murmured  again,  as  the 
boat  rocked  and  danced,  and  as  he  gathered  the 
folds  of  his  rough  yachting  coat  more  closely 
around  her.  “ I like  it,”  and,  instinctively, 
as  if  for  shelter  and  more  assurance,  she  crept 
nearer  to  him. 

He  looked  silently  once  more  upon  her  face, 
so  full  as  it  was  of  fervour,  of  enthusiasm,  and 
of  admiration  for  all  this  glory  of  Nature’s 
tempestuous  kingdom,  in  which  they  were 
tossed  idly  as  a feather  or  a broken  leaf. 

He  looked  upon  her  face,  and  still  no  word 
came  from  him,  but  there  was  a gleam  in  his 
grave  eyes  that  said,  speechlessly, — more  than 
any  words  could  say. 

If  she  “ liked  it,”  as  she  eagerly  repeated,  it 
was  almost  perfect  to  him.  For  in  the  wild 
turbulent  external  nature  he  found  expression, 
and,  therefore,  always  rest  for  that  fierce 


A GALE. 


291 


tempest  within  his  soul ; and  there,  sitting  near 

and  alone  with  her,  gazing  unrestrained  upon 

• 

the  shadowy  beauty  of  her  grand  face,  thrilling 
as  he  was  with  renewed  admiration  for  her,  as 
he  watched  her  high  courage,  her  spirited 
self-control,  and  her  actual  enjoyment,  almost  as 
ardent  as  his  own,  of  the  storm-rocked  scene, — 
he  felt  that  it  had  come — that  one  supreme 
moment, — which  poetic  legend  tells  us,  reaches 
once — every  human  life ! 

The  moment  when  he  could  wish  for  no 
more,  could  sink  no  deeper  into  the  maelstrom 
of  passionate  feeling,  nor  desire  anything  better 
that  was  ever  likely  to  reach  him,  of  the 
sweetness  of  this  common  life. 

And  it  broke  over  him,  the  strong  passion  that 
was  swaying  him,  as  the  foam-crested  billows  of 
this  deep  lake  of  the  mountains  were  swaying 
and  rocking  fiercely  his  little  fragile  boat.  It 
broke  over  him  at  length,  and  his  eager  weary 
eyes  poured  their  sweet  love-beams  upon  her  face. 


292 


FRINGE  HUGO. 


It  broke  over  him,  and  his  cheek  paled,  and 
then  flushed  again  with  a warm  living  glow. 
His  chest  heaved,  and  he  struggled  a moment, 
even  then  not  wholly  losing  his  self-control. 
Again  he  put  out  his  hand  and  took  hers,  softly, 
tenderly,  this  time,  and  with  a firm  and  linger- 
ing clasp,  and  she  did  not  resist  him. 

The  storm  was  whirling  fiercely  at  that  mo- 
ment, they  were  near  the  sharp  promontory  of 
the  little  bay,  and  her  slight  frame  was  thrilling 
with  the  first  faint  quiver  of  a mysterious  awe. 

W^s  it  coming  ? Would  they  strike  that 
sharp  projection  ? Would  they  shiver  within 
the  next  few  minutes  upon  some  hidden  crag  ? 

She  let  him  take  her  hand, — it  gave  her 
a strong  feeling  of  protection.  He  was  there, 
so  not  much  could  befall  her,  and  at  least  she 
was  not  alone. 

She  let  him  clasp  her  hand,  and  as  his  closed 
so  lingering  over  it,  she  turned  once  more  and 
looked  inquiringly  into  his  face. 


A GALE. 


293 


Did  he  think  it  so  very  near  then?  Was  he 
frightened  much  for  them  all  ? Did  he  think 
the  danger  great  ? She  turned  her  dark  inquir- 
ing eyes  in  silence  upon  him,  and  a paler  shade 
fell  upon  her  cheek,  but  no  tremor  of  fear 
touched  her  lips,  even  now. 

She  turned  to  him,  and  she  met  his  eyes  with 
that  strong  kindling  look  in  them,  with  that 
wistful  tenderness,  that  passionate  pain,  and  all 
that  lonely  regretful  pathos,  which  Miriam  had 
once,  but  Zare  never,  until  this  stormy  moment, 
seen  in  their  strange  depths  before. 

She  met  his  eyes,  and  her  own  suffused  and 
drooped  an  instant,  and  then  were  raised  again 
to  reply  with  tender  compassionate  sympathy  to 
his.  Her  lips  parted,  a shade  of  dismay,  a quiver 
of  amazement,  passed  over  her  face,  and  then — 
the  shade  left  it.  Dor,  as  her  eyes  lingered,  they 
brightened  curiously  as  she  met  his  gaze.  Her 
whole  face  lightened  and  glowed  all  over,  and  in 
the  vivid  moonbeams  that  broke  upon  them,  from 


294 


PRINCE  HUGO. 


behind  the  fierce  storm-cloud,  it  seemed  to  him, 
as  if  a veil  rose  from  off  the  dusky  shadows  of 
her  countenance,  as  it  was  indeed,  in  very  truth, 
rising  from  before  her  heart.  Lustrous  and 
transparent,  her  gaze  was  uplifted  to  meet  and 
answer  his.  The  veil  had  risen,  and  she  knew  it: 
at  last ! She  knew  she  loved  him,  and  he  read  the 
love  in  every  quivering  and  expressive  line  of 
her  countenance,  and  in  the  sweet  vivid  light  of 
her  deep  fervent  eyes.  He  read,  as  she  realized, 
her  own  deep  love,  and  her  eager  and  com- 
passionate sympathy,  with  his  evident  but 
incomprehensible  pain. 

Tor  she  had  not  realized  the  whole  yet,  only 
her  own  heart  had  been  unveiled  for  her;  at  that 
moment  only,  her  own  strong  feeling  had  become 
clear.  She  did  not  understand  him,  only  this 
much  she  realized  and  knew,  as  she  clung  to 
his  protection,  that  she  was  all  suddenly  rocked 
more  turbulently  within  her  heart’s-depths,  by 
that  up-springing  love  and  sorrow  for  him,  than 


A GALE. 


295 


her  frame  was  rocked  by  the  heavy  tempest 
which  dashed  their  frail  bark  to  and  fro. 

But  what  he  felt,  she  did  not  yet  realize ! 
What  he  had  felt  during  all  this  weary  time 
since  his  gaze  had  first  lighted  upon  her,  and 
ever  since  he  had  found  in  her  graceful  form  and 
shadowy  face,  most  perfect  realization  of  all  his 
life-long  solitary  dreams.  What  he  felt  as  he 
bent  now,  and  in  the  weird  loneliness  of  this  fierce 
tempest,  held  her  close  and  tenderly  by  the  hand, 
and  as  the  rocky  promontory  broke  close  upon 
them,  towering  ominously  and  full  of  menace 
right  beyond  their  bows.  And  she  did  not  realize 
it  till  he  bent  low  and  close,  and  murmured : 

“ Zare,  mine  at  last ; in  the  midst  of  the 
storms  and  cruel  tempest,  perhaps  only  for  one 
moment — mine ! Turn  your  eyes  once  again 
upon  me,  dearest.  Bright  glimpse  of  Heaven 
here,  at  the  dark  storm-tossed  portals  of  this 
lower  world  ! Zare,  the  rocks  are  near  us,  close 
under  our  very  keel.  Answer  me  for  once,  for 


296 


PRINCE  HUGO. 


one  sweet  fleeting  moment,  answer.  From  your 
heart’s  pure  limpid  depth  will  you  not  answer 
mine  ? Shall  we  die  now  ? Shall  we  entreat 
passionately  of  a tender  Heaven  that  it  may 
really  be.  O,  Zare,  here — here  with  your  hand 
close  held  in  mine,  with  the  waves  all  fierce  and 
wild  about  us,  with  the  sky  flashing  lightning, 
and  the  mountains  echoing  grandly  the  deep 
passionate  music  of  our  souls,  would  it  not  be 
sweet  to  die  ? Jc/t ! meine  Vielgeliebie  ! — that 
it  might  be — that  it  might  be.  That  just  thus, 
at  this  one  supreme  moment  of  all  my  long 
weary  life — Ah  ! that  God  would  let  us — die.” 
She  was  gazing  at  him,  and  reading  also  his 
story  now,  reading  deep  into  the  passionate 
suffering,  into  the  pathetic  longing,  into  the 
weariness  and  the  solitude,  and  the  eager  love  of 
his  strong  deep  heart,  and  it  all  smote  her  with 
a strange,  a fearfully  vivid  and  revealing  power. 
It  pierced  her  heart  like  the  forked  shaft  of  the 
mountain  lightning;  it  threw  a lustre  like  the 


A GALE. 


297 


morning  glow  over  tlie  past,  present,  future, 
probable,  possible,  and  now-existing  state  of 
feeling  and  of  things,  and  in  that  swift  moment, 
as  it  is  said  it  may  be,  in  life’s  closing  moment, 
when  we  are  indeed  about  to  die,  all  things  became 
clear,  and  swept  across  her  soul’s  vision  now. 

Herself,  Roderick,  and  that  far  away,  little 
mentioned,  domestic  hearth  of  Rodavia,  with  its 
sacred  and  irresistible  tie,  all  became  clear  before 
her  eyes, — clear  as  the  vivid  gleam  of  passionate 
tender  love  for  her,  which  lightened  in  the 
shifting  moonbeams  Prince  Hugo’s  eyes, — clear 
as  the  responsive  love  which  reflected  his,  and 
answered  back  to  it  so  eagerly,  from  within  her 
heart. 

“ Yes,  yes,”  she  murmured  then,  in  reply  to 
him,  as  all  this  in  realization  flooded  over  her 
like  a ray  of  light  and  fire.  “ Yes,”  she  mur- 
mured, and  her  hand  crept  closer  into  his,  and 
her  face  was  raised  nearer  and  more  wistfully 
beneath  his  gaze.  “ Yes,  I should  like  it  also 


298 


PRINCE  HUGO. 


to  die  now — just  here — this  very  moment,  in  the 
storm — alone  on  the  sweet  wild  lake  with  You ! ” 

“ Sauve,  mon  Dieu,  Same, !”  The  cry  from 
the  valiant  steersman  broke  above  billows  and 
wind.  They  had  entered  the  bay, — they  had 
swept  in  safety  past  the  treacherous  rocks,  and 
they  were  drifting  before  a softened  wind,  under 
the  shelter  of  the  bank  towards  St.  Saphorut. 

And  one  after  another,  shouts  rose  from  sailors 
and  voyagers,  from  Harcourt  and  Frere,  who  had 
sat  almost  silent  with  apprehension,  by  Mrs.  Red- 
mond and  Miriam’s  side ; from  one  and  the  other 
and  answered  back  by  Prince  Hugo,  as  the  gallant 
little  skiff  swept  triumphantly  into  the  bay. 

Lights  were  moving  rapidly  about  the  pier; 
and  along  the  road  from  Yevey,  came  the  swiftly 
advancing  gleam  of  two  lustrous  carriage-lamps, 
displaying,  as  their  star-like  beams  shot  out  over 
the  water  and  quarrelled  with  the  moonlight,  the 
ardour  and  deep  anxiety  of  De  Vigne,  Rochsdorf, 


A GALE. 


299 


and  all  the  Prince’s  household,  to  say  nothing  of 
Mrs.  Debugines  and  poor  Mrs.  Redmond’s  little 
children  at  the  hotel. 

There  was  the  Prince’s  char-a-banc,  and  an 
hotel  caleche ; for  the  little  ship  had  been  watched 
in  its  perilous  course  from  the  shore,  and  followed 
eagerly  as  she  drifted  across  the  lake,  for  well 
they  knew,  all  these  accustomed  dwellers  by  the 
deep  water  side,  that  the  treacherous  squall  would 
drive  the  light  Turquoise  far  out  of  her  homeward 
course,  and  cast  her  ashore  perhaps  on  some 
distant  and  lower  point. 

So  they  had  followed,  as  indeed  the  char-a-banc 
frequently  did,  the  Prince’s  moonlit  tract  over  the 
billowy  way.  And  there  they  were  all,  eagerly  in 
waiting, — as,  at  last,  the  boat  came  safely  to 
harbour,  and  reached  the  end  of  the  little  pier. 

All  ready, — and,  as  all  acknowledged,  it  was 
a welcome,  if  unromantic,  finale  to  a most  ad 
venturous  sail — as  they  packed  Zare,  Mrs.  Red- 
mond, and  Miriam  safely  into  the  caleche. 


300 


PRINCE  HUGO. 


“ The  ladies  behaved  splendidly,”  said  John, 
as  he  closed  the  door  upon  them,  and  heaved 
from  the  depth  of  his  kind  heart,  most 
thankfully,  a sigh  of  genuine  relief. 

“ And  I owe  them  many  apologies,”  was 
nearly  all  the  Prince  said,  as  he  assisted,  with 
courteous  hand,  to  draw  the  carriage  rug,  which 
had  been  thoughtfully  put  in  the  caleche,  over 
the  spray-dashed  dresses. 

He  was  silent  save  for  this,  and  he  was 
intensely  grave  and  pale.  The  hurried  landing 
and  immediate  start  left  indeed  no  time  or 
occasion  for  more. 

They  were  driven  off,  with  Harcourt  Lynton 
filling  the  fourth  place  in  their  carriage,  and  the 
Prince  was  left  to  proceed  homewards,  through 
the  stormy  moonlight,  in  the  char-a-banc  with 
John. 

END  OF  VOL.  II. 


BRADBURY,  AGNEW,  & CO.,  PRINTERS,  "WHITEFRIARS. 


3 


t: 


